Awake, my zeal; awake, my love,To serve my Savior here below,In works which perfect saints aboveAnd holy angels cannot do.
Awake, my charity, to feedThe hungry soul, and clothe the poor;In Heav’n are found no sons of need,There all these duties are no more.
Subdue thy passions, O my soul!Maintain the fight, thy work pursue,Daily thy rising sins control,And be thy vic’tries ever new.
The land of triumph lies on high,There are no foes t’encounter there;Lord, I would conquer till I die,And finish all the glorious war.
Let every flying hour confessI gain Thy Gospel fresh renown;And when my life and labors cease,May I possess the promised crown!