Rise, my soul, and stretch thy wings
1
Rise, my soul, and stretch thy wings,Thy better portion trace;Rise from transitory thingsToward heaven, thy native place.Sun, and moon, and stars decay;Time shall soon this earth remove;Rise, my soul, and haste awayTo seats prepared above.
2
Rivers to the ocean run,Nor stay in all their course;Fire ascending seeks the sun;Both speed them to their source:So a soul that's born of God,Pants to view his glorious face;Upward tends to his abode,To rest in his embrace.
3
Cease, my soul, O cease to mourn!Press onward to the prize;Soon thy Saviour will returnTo take thee to the skies:There is everlasting peace,Rest, enduring rest in heaven;There will sorrow ever cease,And crowns of joy be given.