# 611 Awake, My Soul
1. Awake, my soul! stretch every nerve And press with vigour on; A heavenly race demands thy zeal, And an immortal crown.
2. ‘Tis God’s all animating voice That calls thee from on high; ‘Tis he whose hand presents the prize To thine aspiring eye.
3. A cloud of witnesses around Hold thee in full survey; Forget the steps already trod, And onward urge thy way.
4. Blest Saviour, introduced by Thee, Our race have we begun And, crowned with victory, at Thy feet We’ll lay our trophies down.