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 my soul, that’s born of God,
pants to view His glorious face,
Upward tends to His abode,
to rest in His embrace.

3. Fly me riches, fly me cares,
whilst I that coast explore;
Flattering world, with all thy snares,
solicit me no more.
Pilgrims fix not here their home;
strangers tarry but a night;
When the last dear morn is come,
they’ll rise to joyful light.

4. Cease, ye pilgrims, cease to mourn,
press onward to the prize;
Soon thy 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.