Hymn XXV. Long Metre. The Christian Race

Awake our souls, away our fears, Let ev'ry trembling thought be gone; Awake and run the heavenly race, And put a cheerful courage on.

True 'tis a straight and thorny road, And mortal spirits tire and saint; If they forget the mighty God, Who feeds the strength of every saint.

The mighty God, whose powerful hand Has matchless works of wonder done; And shall endure, whilst endless years Their everlasting circles run.

From him, the overflowing spring, Our souls shall drink a rich supply; Whilst those who trust their native strength Shall melt away, and droop and die.

Swift as an eagle cuts the air, We'll mount aloft to thine abode; On wings of love our souls will fly, Nor tire amidst the heavenly road.