Awake, My Soul, Stretch Every Nerve

249 Awake, My Soul, Stretch Every Nerve

1 Awake, my soul, stretch every nerve,
   And press with vigor on;
   A heavenly race demands thy zeal,
   And an immortal crown.
   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.
   And onward urge thy way.

3 '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.

4 Blest Savior, introduced by Thee,
   Have I my race begun;
   And crowned with victory at Thy feet
   I'll lay my honors down.
   I'll lay my honors down.
                         Philip Doddridge
                         The Methodist Hymnal 1964 edition

<idle musing>
Although I don't recall ever singing this hymn, it appears to be quite popular, occurring in over a thousand hymnals. Hymnary.org inserts a verse:

4 That prize, with peerless glories bright,
   Which shall new lustre boast
   When victors' wreaths and monarchs' gems
   Shall blend in common dust.

</idle musing>