The Book of Worship ‎#341

341. Awake, my soul; stretch every nerve

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

2 A cloud of witnesses around
Hold thee in full survey;
Forget the steps already trod,
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,--

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

Text Information

• First Line: Awake, my soul; stretch every nerve
• Meter: C. M.
• Language: English
• Publication Date: 1867
• Topic: Man a Saint: Steadfast and Abounding in Grace

Tune Information

(No tune information)