668 - Rise, My Soul, and Stretch Thy Wings

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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.