Awake, My Zeal; Awake, My Love,
To Serve My Saviour Here Below,
In Works Which Perfect Saints Above
And Holy Angels Cannot Do.
Awake, My Charity, To Feed
The Hungry Soul, And Clothe The Poor;
In Heaven 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 Victories Ever New.
The Land Of Triumph Lies On High,
There Are No Foes Ten Counter There;
Lord, I Would Conquer Till I Die,
And Finish All The Glorious War.
Let Every Flying Hour Confess
I Gain Thy Gospel Fresh Renown;
And When My Life And Labours Cease,
May I Possess The Promised Crown!
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