Awake, My Soul

Awake my soul! Stretch every nerve, and press with vigor on;
A heavenly race demands thy zeal, and an immortal crown.

Tis God’s all animating voice, That calls thee from on high;
`Tis he whose hand presents the prize, to thine aspiring eye.

A cloud of witnesses around, hold thee in full survey;
Forget the steps already trod, and onward urge thy way.

Blest saviour, introduced by the, our race have we begun;
And, crown with victory, at thy feet, we’ll lay our trophies down