Running the Christian Race

Verse 1

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

Verse 2

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

Verse 3

'Tis God's all-animating voice That calls thee from on high; 'Tis His own hand presents the prize To thine aspiring eye.

Verse 4

That prize, with peerless glories bright, Which shall new lustre boast When victors' wreaths and monarchs' gems Shall blend in common dust.

Verse 5

Blest Savior, introduced by Thee, Have I my race begun; And crowned with victory at Thy feet I'll lay my honors down.