Awake, my drow­sy soul, awake
And view the threat­en­ing scene:
The foes in le­gion camp around,
And trea­che­ry lurks with­in.

’Tis not this mor­tal life alone
These en­emies as­sail;
All thine eter­nal hopes are lost,
If their at­tempts pre­vail.

Now to the work of God awake;
Behold thy mak­er near;
The va­ri­ous, ar­du­ous task pur­sue
With vi­gor and with fear.

The aw­ful re­gis­ter goes on,
Th’account will sure­ly come,
And op­en­ing day, or clos­ing night
May bear me to my doom.

Tremendous thought! How deep it strikes!
Yet like a dream it flies,
Till God’s own voice the slum­bers chase
From these de­lud­ed eyes.