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.

Once they were mourners here below,
And poured out cries and 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, foll'wing their incarnate God,
Possess the promised rest.

Our glorious Leader claims our praise,
For his own pattern giv’n;
While the long cloud of witnesses
Show the same path to heav’n.