1 Give me the wings of faith to rise Within the veil, and see The saints above, how great their joys, How bright their glories be.
2 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.
3 I ask them whence their victory came, They, with united breath, Ascribe their conquest to the Lamb, Their triumph to his death.
4 They mark'd the footsteps that he trod, (His zeal inspir'd their breast;) And following their incarnate God Possess the promis'd rest.
5 Our glorious Leader claims our praise For his own pattern given, While the long cloud of witnesses Shew the same path to heaven.