1 My drowsy pow'rs, why sleep ye so?
Awake my sluggish soul!
Nothing has half thy work to do,
Yet nothing's half so dull.
2 The little ants for one poor grain
Labour, and tug, and strive;
Yet we, who have a heav'n t' obtain,
How negligent we live!
3 We, for whose sake all nature stands,
And stars their courses move;
We, for whose guard the angel bands
Come flying from above:
4 We, for whom God the Son came down,
And labor'd for our good,
How careless to secure that crown
He purchas'd with his blood!
5 Lord, shall we lie so sluggish still,
And never act our parts!
Come, holy Dove, from th' heav'nly hill,
And sit and warm our hearts.
6 Then shall our active spirits move,
Upwards our souls shall rise;
With hands of faith and wings of love
We'll fly and take the prize.
Text Information | |
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First Line: | My drowsy pow'rs, why sleep ye so? |
Title: | Complaining of Spiritual sloth |
Meter: | C. M. |
Language: | English |
Publication Date: | 1793 |