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 He whose 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. Blest Savior, introduced by Thee,
    Our race have we begun;
    And, crowned with victory, at Thy feet
    We’ll lay our trophies down.