English poem
Pressing on in the Christian Race. Phil. iii. 12-14
by Philip Doddridge (1773–1832)
Awake, my Soul, stretch ev'ry Nerve, And press with Vigour on: A heav'nly Race demands thy Zeal, And an immortal Crown.
A Cloud of Witnesses around Hold thee in full Survey: Forget the Steps already trod, 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.
That Prize with peerless Glories bright, Which shall new Lustre boast, When Victors Wreaths and Monarchs Gem. Shall blend in common Dust.
Blest Saviour, introduc'd by thee Have I my Race begun; And crown'd with Vict'ry at thy Feet I'll lay mine Honours down.
More by Philip Doddridge
- Practical Reflections on the State of our Fathers. Zechariah i. 5
- Praise for Recovery from Sickness. Psalm cxviii. 18, 19
- Praising GOD through the whole of our Existence. Psalm cxlvi. 2
- Preparing to meet GOD. Amos iv. 12, 13
- Prisoners delivered from the Pit by the Blood of the Covenant. Zech. ix. 11
- Providential Bounties surveyed and improved. Matthew v. 45
- Providing Bags, that wax not old, &c. Luke xii. 33
- Quietness under Affliction a proper Acknowledgment of GOD. Psalm xlvi. 10