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630 – Rise, My Soul, and Stretch Thy Wings

1

Rise, my soul, and stretch thy wings, thy better portion trace;

Rise from transitory things toward heaven, thy native place;

Sun, and moon, and stars decay; time shall soon this earth remove;

Rise, my soul, and haste away to 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, longs to view His glorious face,

Forward tends to His abode to rest in His embrace.

3

Cease, ye pilgrims, cease to mourn; press onward to the prize;

Soon our Savior will return, triumphant in the skies;

Yet a season, and you know happy entrance will be given,

All our sorrows left below, and earth exhcanged for heaven.