605		CM
	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,     And poured out cries and 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 marked the footsteps that He trod,     His zeal inspired their breast; And, following their incarnate God,     Possess the promised rest.
5	Our glorious Leader claims our praise     For His own pattern given; While the long cloud of witnesses     Show the same path to Heaven.
	Isaac Watts, 1674-1748