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XLIV. Running the Christian race

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

2 'Tis God's all animating voice,
That calls thee from on high:
'Tis his own hand presents the prize
To thine aspiring eye.

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

4 Bless'd Savior, introduc'd by thee,
Have we our race begun;
And crown'd with victory, at thy feet
We lay our laurels down.

Text Information
First Line: Awake, my soul stretch every nerve
Title: Running the Christian race
Language: English
Publication Date: 1802
Scripture:
Tune Information
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