Give me the wings of faith to riseWithin the veil, and seeThe saints above, how great their joys,How bright their glories be.
Once they were mourning here below,And wet their couch with tears:They wrestled hard, as we do now,With sins, and doubts, and fears.
I ask them whence their victory came:They, with united breath,Ascribe their conquest to the Lamb,Their triumph to His death.
They marked the footsteps that He trod,His zeal inspired their breast;And following their incarnate God,Possess the promised rest.
Our glorious Leader claims our praiseFor His own pattern giv'n;While the long cloud of witnessesShow the same path to Heav'n.