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.