1 Rise, my soul, and stretch thy wings,
Thy better portion trace;
Rise, from transitory things
Towards 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 Cease, my soul, O cease to mourn,
Press onward to the prize;
Soon thy Saviour will return,
To 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.
Text Information | |
---|---|
First Line: | Rise, my soul, and stretch thy wings |
Meter: | P. M. |
Language: | English |
Publication Date: | 1871 |