Isaac Watts, 1709
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 mourners here below,
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 marked the footsteps that He trod,
5. Our glorious Leader claims our praise|
For His own pattern given;
While the long cloud of witnesses
Show the same path to heaven.
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