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>

O happy day, that fixed my choice

128 O happy day, that fixed my choice

1 O happy day, that fixed my choice
   On thee, my Savior and my God!
   Well may this glowing heart rejoice,
   And tell thy goodness all abroad.

2 O happy bond, that seals my vows,
   To him who merits all my love!
   Let cheerful anthems fill his house,
   While to that sacred throne I move.

3 'Tis done, the great transaction's done;
   I am my Lord's, and he is mine.
   Help me, great God, to follow on,
   Obedient to thy voice divine.

4 Now rest, mine oft divided heart;
   Fix'd on this blissful centre, rest.
   With ashes who would grieve to part,
   When call'd on angels' bread to feast?

5 High heav'n, that heard the solemn vow,
   That vow renew'd shall daily hear;
   Till in life's latest hour I bow,
   And bless in death a bond so dear.
                         Philip Doddridge
                         The Methodist Hymnal 1964 edition

<idle musing>
A fairly common hymn, occurring in more than 1700 hymnals. Some add a chorus:

Happy day, happy day,
When Jesus washed my sins away!
He taught me how to watch and pray,
And live rejoicing every day;
Happy day, happy day,
When Jesus washed my sins away!

</idle musing>

Great God, we sing that mighty hand

539 Federal Street. L. M.

1 Great God, we sing that mighty hand,
   By which supported still we stand:
   The opening year thy mercy shews.
   Let mercy crown it till it close.

2 By day, by night, at home, abroad,
   Still we are guarded by our God;
   By thine incessant bounty fed,
   By thine unerring counsel led.

3 With grateful hearts the past we own;
   The future, all to us unknown,
   We to thy guardian care commit,
   And peaceful leave before thy feet.

4 In scenes exalted or depress'd,
   Be thou our joy, and thou our rest;
   Thy goodness all our hopes shall raise,
   Adored thro' all our changing days.
                         Philip Doddridge
                         The Methodist Hymnal 1939 edition

<idle musing>
A fairly popular hymn, occurring in over 480 hymnals. Hymnary.org has a fifth verse:

5 When death shall interrupt these songs,
   And seal in silence mortal tongues,
   Our helper God, in whom we trust,
   In better words our souls shall boast.

</idle musing>

The King of heaven His table spreads

409 Dundee (French). C. M.

1 The King of heaven His table spreads,
   And blessings crown the board;
   Not paradise, with all its joys,
   Could such delight afford.

2 Pardon and peace to dying men,
   And endless life are given,
   Thro' the rich blood that Jesus shed
   To raise our souls to heaven.

3 Millions of souls, in glory now,
   Were fed and feasted here;
   And millions more, still on the way,
   Around the board appear.

4 All things are ready, come away,
   Nor weak excuses frame;
   Come to your places at the feast,
   And bless the Founder’s Name.
                         Philip Doddridge
                         The Methodist Hymnal 1939 edition

<idle musing>
Well, it's bit more popular than yesterday's hymn! But not by much, occurring in only 230 hymnals. Hymnary.org adds a couple of verses:

3 Ye hungry poor, who long have stray'd
   In sin’s dark mazes, come:
   Come from the hedges and highways
   And grace shall find you room.

5 Yet is His house and heart so large,
   That thousands more may come;
   Nor could the wide assembling world
   O’erfill the spacious room.

</idle musing>

I'll drop my burden at his feet, and bear a song away

69 Dennis. S. M.

1 How gentle God’s commands!
   How kind His precepts are!
   Come, cast your burdens on the Lord,
   And trust His constant care.

2 While Providence supports,
   Let saints securely dwell;
   That hand which bears all nature up
   Shall guard His children well.

3 Why should this anxious load
   Press down your weary mind?
   Haste to your heavenly Father’s throne,
   And sweet refreshment find.

4 His goodness stands approved,
   Down to the present day:
   I’ll drop my burden at His feet,
   And bear a song away.
                         Philip Doddridge
                         The Methodist Hymnal 1939 edition

<idle musing>
Doddridge knew a good bit about trouble, as his short bio shows. So when he writes lines like "I'll drop my burden at his feet, / and bear a song away," he knows of what he speaks. That being said, this hymn spoke to me today; it was just what I needed to hear.
</idle musing>

Change to strains of cheerful praise / Our accents of distress

1084 C. M.
The death of a pastor.

TO thee, O God, when creatures fail,
   Thy flock, deserted, flies;
   And on the’ eternal Shepherd’s care,
   Our steadfast hope relies.

2 When o’er thy faithful servant’s dust
   Thy saints assembled mourn,
   In speedy tokens of thy grace,
   O Zion’s God, return!

3 The powers of nature all are thine,
   And thine the aids of grace;
   Thine arm has borne thy churches up,
   Through each succeeding race.

4 Exert thy sacred influence here,
   And here thy suppliants bless;
   And change to strains of cheerful praise
   Our accents of distress.
                         Philip Doddridge
                         Methodist Episcopal hymnal (1870 edition)

An Advent hymn

118 C. M.
Design and object of His advent.

HARK, the glad sound! the Saviour comes,——
   The Saviour, promised long;
   Let every heart prepare a throne,
   And every voice a song.

2 He comes, the pris’ner to release.
   In Satan’s bondage held;
   The gates of brass before him burst,
   The iron fetters yield.

3 He comes, from thickest films of vice
   To clear the mental ray,
   And on the eyes oppress’d with night
   To pour celestial day.

4 He comes, the broken heart to bind,
   The wounded soul to cure,
   And, with the treasures of his grace,
   To’ enrich the humble poor.

5 Our glad hosannas, Prince of peace,
   Thy welcome shall proclaim,
   And heaven’s eternal arches ring
   With thy beloved name.
                    by Philip Doddridge
                    from the 1870 Hymns for the Methodist Episcopal Church