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XXXVII | A Pocket Hymn Book#XXXVIII | XXXIX |
1 My drowsy pow'rs, why sleep ye so?
Awake, my sluggish soul!
Nothing hath half thy work to do;
Yet nothing's half so dull.
2 Go to the ants: for one poor grain,
See how they toil and strive;
Yet we, who have a heav'n t'obtain,
How negligent we live!
3 We for whose sake all nature stands,
And stars their courses move;
We for whose guards the angel bands,
Come flying from above.
4 We for whom God the Son came down,
And labour'd for our good
How careless to secure that crown
He purchas'd with his blood!
5 Lord, shall we live so sluggish still,
And never act our parts?
Come, Holy Dove, from th' heav'nly hill,
And warm our frozen hearts.
6 Give us with active warmth to move,
With vig'rous souls to rise;
With hands of faith, and wings of love
To fly and take the prize.
Text Information | |
---|---|
First Line: | My drowsy pow'rs, why sleep ye so? |
Language: | English |
Publication Date: | 1791 |
Topic: | Penitential |
Notes: | Now Public Domain. |