Running the Christian Race

Awake, my soul, stretch ev'ry nerve,

And press with vigor on!

A heav'nly race demands thy zeal,

And an immortal crown,

And an immortal crown.

A cloud of witnesses around

Hold thee in full survey;

Forget the steps already trod,

And onward urge thy way,

And onward urge thy way.

'Tis God's all-animating voice

That calls thee from on high;

'Tis His own hand presents the prize

To thine aspiring eye,

To thine aspiring eye.

Blest Savior, introduced by Thee,

Have I my race begun;

And, crowned with vict'ry, at Thy feet

I'll lay my honors down,

I'll lay my honors down.