1.

Rise noble Soule and come away;

Lett us no longer wast the day:

Come lett us hast to yonder Hill,

where Pleasures fresh are growing still.

The way at first is rough and steep;

And something hard for to ascend:

But on the Toppe do Pleasures keep

And Ease and Joyes doe still attend.

2.

Come lett us goe: and doe not fear

the hardest way, while I am neer.

My heart with thine shall mingled bee;

Thy Sorrowes mine, my Joyes with Thee.

And all our Labours as wee goe

True Love shall sweeten still.

and strew our way with Flowers too,

whilest wee ascend the Hill.

3.

The hill of rest, where Angels live:

where Blisse her Palace hath to give:

where Thousands shall Thee welcom make,

and Joy, that Thou their Joyes do'st take.

O come lett's hast to this sweet place,

I pray thee quickly heal thy mind!

sweet lett us goe with joyfull pace

And leave the baser world behind.