Awake, my soul! Stretch ev'ry nerve,
And press with vigour on
A heav'nly race demands thy zeal,
An immortal crown.

‘Tis God's all-animating voice
That calls you from on high;
‘Tis his own hand presents the prize
To your aspiring eye.

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

Blest Saviour, introduced by you,
Have I my race begun,
And, crowned with vict'ry, at your feet
I’ll lay my honors down.