355- Awake, My Soul!

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

íTis Godís all animating voice
That calls thee from on high;
íTis 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 Thee,
Our race have we begun;
And, crowned with victory, at Thy feet
Weíll lay our trophies down.