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Not from the dust affliction grows,

Nor troubles rise by chance;

But we are born to cares and woes –

A sad inheritance!

As sparks break out from burning coals,

And still are upwards borne,

So grief is rooted in our souls,

And man grows up to mourn.

Not all the pains that e’er I bore

Shall spoil my future peace;

For death and hell can do no more

Than what the Father please.

Rise, rise, my soul, and leave the ground,

Stretch all thy thoughts abroad,

And rouse up every tuneful sound

To praise the eternal God

Well, let the sea shrink all away,

And flame melt down the skies,

My God shall live an endless day,

When th' old creation dies.

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,

Longs to view His glorious face,

Upward tends to His abode,

To rest in His embrace.

Sun and moon and stars decay,

Time shall soon this earth remove;

Rise, my soul, and haste away

To seats prepared above.