Text: | The Christian Race |
1 Awake our Souls, (away, our Fears,
Let every trembling Thought be gone)
Awake, and run the heavenly Race
And put a chearful Courage on.
2 True, 'tis a straight and thorny Road,
And mortal Spirits tire and faint;
But they forget the mighty God,
That feeds the Strength of every Saint.
3 O mighty God thy matchless Power
Is ever new, and ever young,
And firm endures while endless Years
Their everlasting Circles run.
4 From thee the overflowing Spring,
Our Souls shall drink a fresh Supply;
While such as trust their native Strength
Shall melt away and droop, and die.
5 Swift as an Eagle cuts the Air,
We'll mount aloft to thine Abode
On Wings of Love our Souls shall fly,
Nor tire amid'st the heavenly Road!
Text Information | |
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First Line: | Awake our Souls, away our Fears |
Title: | The Christian Race |
Language: | English |
Publication Date: | 1737 |