1 Awake, my soul, stretch ev'ry nerve,
and press with vigor on;
a heav'nly race demands thy zeal,
and an immortal crown.
2 A cloud of witnesses around
hold thee in full survey;
forget the steps already trod
and onward urge your way.
3 'Tis God's all-animating voice
that calls thee from on high;
'tis his own hand presents the prize
to thine aspiring eye;
4 that prize, with peerless glories bright
which shall new lustre boast,
when victors' wreaths and monarch's gems
shall blend in common dust.
5 Blest Saviour, introduced by thee
have I my race begun,
and crowned with vict'ry, at thy feet
I'll lay my honors down.
|First Line:||Awake, my soul, stretch every nerve|
|Title:||Awake, My Soul, Stretch Every Nerve|
|Topic:||Call and Response; Faith and Aspiration; PILGRIMAGE AND CONFLICT|
|Final Flourishes, Vol. 2|