Awake, My Soul

Awake, my soul, stretch ev' ry nerve, And press with vigor on; A heav' nly race demands thy zeal, And an immortal crown, And an immortal crown.

A cloud of witnesses around Hold thee in full survey; Forget the steps already trod, And onward urge thy way, And onward urge thy 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, To thine aspiring eye.

That prize with peerless glory bright, With thee, O Lord, we' ll gain, When earth' s great monarchs shall have lost Their glory and their fame, Their glory and their fame.

Blest Saviour, introduced by thee, Our race have we begun; And crowned with vict' ry, at thy feet We' ll lay our trophies down, We' ll lay our trophies down.