4 Then, my soul, in every strait, To thy Father, come and wait; He will answer every prayer, God is present everywhere.
1 Sweet is the prayer whose holy stream In earnest pleading flows! Devotion dwells upon the theme, And warm and warmer glows.
2 Faith grasps the blessing she desires; Hope points the upward gaze; And Love, celestial Love, inspires The eloquence of praise.
3 But sweeter far the still, small voice, Unheard by human ear, When God has made the heart rejoice, And dried the bitter tear.
4 No accents flow, no words ascend; All utterance faileth there; But Christian spirits comprehend, And God accepts the prayer.
1 Awake, my soul! lift up thine eyes! See where thy foes against thee rise, In long array a numerous host; Awake, my soul! or thou art lost.
2 See where rebellious passions rage, And fierce desires and lusts engage; The meanest foe of all the train Has thousands and ten thousands slain.
3 Come then, my soul! now learn to wield The weight of thine immortal shield; Put on the armor from above, Of heavenly truth and heavenly love.
4 The terror and the charm repel, And powers of earth and powers of hell, The man of Calvary triumphed here;-- Why should his faithful followers fear?
1 Awake, my soul! stretch every nerve, And press with vigor on; A heavenly race demands thy zeal, And an immortal crown.
2 A cloud of witnesses around Hold thee in full survey; Forget the steps already trod, And onward urge thy way.
3 'T is God's all-animating voice That calls thee from on high; 'T is his own hand presents the prize To thine aspiring eye;--
4 That prize with peerless glories bright, Which shall new lustre boast, When victors' wreaths and monarchs' gems Shall blend in common dust.
1 Am I a soldier of the cross, A follower of the Lamb? And shall I fear to own his cause, Or blush to speak his name?
2 Must I be carried to the skies On flowery beds of ease, While others fought to win the prize, And sailed through bloody seas?
3 Sure I must fight, if I would reign; Increase my courage, Lord! I'll bear the toil, endure the pain, Supported by thy word.
4 Thy saints, in all this glorious war, Shall conquer, though they're slain: They see the triumph from afar, And soon with Christ shall reign.