CH1941, Hymn #668

Verse 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.

Verse 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.

Verse 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.