Rise my soul and stretch thy wings,
Thy better portion trace,
Rise from all terrestrial things
T’wards 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.

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
Pants to view His glorious face,
Upwards tends to His abode
To rest in His embrace.

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