1 RISE, my soul, and stretch thy wings, Thy better portion trace;
Rise from transitory things,
Towards 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 our Savior 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.
36*
Triumph in the Assurance of Heaven.
1 WHEN I can read my title clear
To mansions in the skies,
I bid farewell to every fear,
And wipe my weeping eyes.
2 Should earth against my soul engage,
And hellish darts be hurled,
Then I can smile at satan's rage,
And face a frowning world.
3 Let cares, like a wild deluge, come,
And storms of sorrow fall;
May I but safely reach my home,
My God, my heaven, my all;
4 There shall I bathe my weary soul
In seas of heavenly rest;
And not a wave of trouble roll
Across my peaceful breast.
The Bounties of Providence acknowledged.
1 FATHER of lights! we sing thy name,
Who kindlest up the lamp of day;
Wide as he spreads his golden flame,
His beams thy power and love display.
2 Fountain of good! from thee proceeds,
In copious drops, the genial rain,
Which o'er the hills, and through the meads,
Revives the grass, and swells the grain.
3 Through the wide world thy bounties spread;
Yet thousands of our guilty race,
Though by thy daily bounty fed,
Affront thy law, reject thy grace.
4 Not so may our forgetful hearts
O'erlook the tokens of thy care;
But what thy liberal hand imparts,
Still own in praise, still ask in prayer.
5 So shall o ir suns more grateful shine,
And showers in richer drops shall fall,
When all our hearts and lives are thine,
And thou, O God! enjoyed in all.
Praise in Fruitful and in Barren Seasons.
1 PRAISE to God, immortal praise,
For the love that crowns our days;
Bounteous Source of every joy,
Let thy praise our tongues employ:
2 For the blessings of the field,
For the stores the gardens yield,
For the vine's exalted juice,
For the generous olive's use.
3 Flocks that whiten all the plain,
Yellow sheaves of ripened grain,
Clouds that drop their fattening dews,
Suns that temperate warmth diffuse;
4 All that spring, with bounteous hand,
Scatters o'er the smiling land;
All that liberal autumn pours
From her rich o'erflowing stores ;-
5 These to thee, our God, we owe,
Source whence all our blessings flow;
And for these our souls shall raise
Grateful vows and solemn praise.
6 Yet should rising whirlwinds tear
From its stem the ripening ear;
Should the fig-tree's blasted shoot
Drop her green untimely fruit;
7 Should thine altered hand restrin
Th' early and the latter rain,
Blast each opening bud of joy,
And the rising year destroy;
8 Still to thee our souls shall raise
Grateful vows and solemn praise;
And, when every blessing's flown
Love thee for thyself alone.
1 GOD of the year! with songs of praise
And hearts of love, we come to bless
Thy bounteous hand, for thou hast shed
Thy manna o'er our wilderness.
In early spring-time thou didst fling
O'er earth its robe of blossoming;
And its sweet treasures, day by day,
Rose quickening in thy blessed ray.
2 And now they whiten hill and vale,
And hang on every vine and tree,
Whose pensile branches, bending low,
Seem bowed in thankfulness to thee.
The earth, with all its purple isles,
Is answering to thy genial smiles;
And gales of perfume breathe along,
And lift to thee their voiceless song.
3 God of the seasons! thou hast blest
The land with sunlight and with showers,
And plenty o'er its bosom smiles
To crown the sweet autumnal hours;
Praise-praise to thee! Our hearts expand
To view these blessings of thy hand,
And on the incense-breath of love
Ascend to their bright home above.
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