A Pocket hymn book, designed as a constant companion for the pious ‎#XXXVIII

XXXVIII. My drowsy pow'rs, why sleep ye so?

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 Go to the ants; for one poor grain,
See how they toil 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 guards the angel bands
Come flying from above.

4 We for whom God the Son came down,
And labour'd for our good,
How careless to secure that crown
He purchas'd with his blood!

5 Lord, shall we live so sluggish still,
And never act our parts?
Come, Holy Dove, from th' heav'nly hill,
And warm our frozen hearts.

6 Give us with active warmth to move,
With vig'rous souls to rise;
With hands of faith, and wings of love
To fly and take the prize.

Text Information

• First Line: My drowsy pow'rs, why sleep ye so?
• Language: English
• Publication Date: 1788
• Topic: Penitential

Tune Information

(No tune information)