409 Rise, my soul, and stretch thy wings,

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 Pants to view His glorious face; Upward tends to His abode, To rest in His embrace. 3 Cease, my soul, O cease to mourn! Press onward to the prize; Soon thy Savior 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.