Rise, my soul, and stretch thy wings,

Thy better portion trace;

Rise from transitory things,

Toward heaven, thy destined place.

Sun and moon and stars decay,

Time shall soon this earth remove;

Rise, my soul, and haste away

To seats prepared above.

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.