Rise, My Soul, and Stretch Thy Wings

Rise, my soul, and stretch thy wings,
Thy better portion trace;
Rise from transitory things
Toward heaven, thy destined place.
Sun and moon and stars decay,
Time shall soon this earth remove;
Rise, my soul, and haste away
To seats prepared above.

Rivers to the ocean run,
Nor stay in all their course;
Fire ascending seeks the sun;
Both speed them to their source:
So my soul, derived from God,
Longs to view His glorious face,
Forward tends to His abode,
To rest in His embrace.

Cease, my soul, then, cease to mourn,
Press onward to the prize;
Soon the Saviour will return
Triumphant in the skies:
Yet a season, and we know
Happy entrance will be given,
All our sorrows left below,
And earth exchanged for heaven.

Amen.