p.84
Tune: Amsterdam, Foundery Collection (John Wesley), 1742
Words: Robert Seagrave, 1742
Rise my soul and stretch thy wings,
Thy better portion trace,
Rise from all terrestrial things
T’wards 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,
Upwards tends to His abode
To rest in His embrace.
No comments:
Post a Comment