Rise, My Soul, and Stretch Thy Wings

1Rise, 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.

2Rivers 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.

3Cease, 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 exchanged for heaven.