Robert Seagrave 1693-1759? (England) / James Nares (1715-1783)

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.

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.

Cease, my soul, then cease to mourn, press onward to the prize;

Soon the Saviour 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.