1 Awake, my soul, stretch every nerve,
and press with vigor on;
A heavenly race demands your zeal,
and an immortal crown,
and an immortal crown.
2 A cloud of witnesses around
holds you in full survey;
Forget the steps already trod,
and onward urge your way
and onward urge your way.
3 For God's all-animating voice
still calls us to the race;
And God's own hand still gives the prize
with never-ending grace,
with never-ending grace.
4 O Savior, shown the way by you,
I have my race begun;
And, crowned with victory, at your feet
I'll lay my honors down,
I'll lay my honors down.
Source: The New Century Hymnal #491
|First Line:||Awake, my soul, stretch every nerve|
|Author:||Philip Doddridge (1755)|