The Voice of Praise ‎#958

958. 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, ye pilgrims! cease to mourn,--
Press onward to the prize;
Soon your Saviour will return
Triumphant in the skies:
Yet a season, and you know
Happy entrance will be given,
All your sorrows left below,
And earth exchanged for heaven.

Text Information

• First Line: Rise, my soul! and stretch thy wings
• Author: Cennick
• Meter: 7s & 6s
• Publication Date: 1873
• Scripture:
  Ecclesiastes 1:5-7
• Topic: Heaven; Pressing Toward the Mark for the Prize

Tune Information

(No tune information)