Verse 1
Servants of Christ, arise,
To do your Master’s will,
Soldiers, be bold to win the prize
On that celestial hill;
Ye travellers hold on,
Impatient to remove,
Gird up your loins, and swiftly run
The race that ends above:
Verse 2
Inkindled at the word
Your faith by works maintain,
Your burning lamps with oil be stor’d,
With love to God and man:
(That oil the Spirit supplies,
He sheds that love abroad)
Go forth to meet him in the skies
Your dear returning God.