Ascend, My Soul, to Pisgah’s Hill

Ascend

my soul

to Pis­gah’s hill

Which ov­er­looks the pro­mised land;

Go view from thence the fer­tile fields

And there with joy and won­der stand.

Then wish

as Da­vid did

for wings

The wings of the ce­les­ti­al dove

To bear thee up from earth­ly things

To those de­light­ful seats above.

There Je­sus

clothed in bright ar­ray

Displays His ban­ner

plants His throne;

There night is turned to end­less day

Nor sin nor sor­row there is known.

Speed fast away

ye days and years

Come death

con­vey me swift­ly home;

Adieu to all my doubts and fears

My bright­est joys are yet to come.