Arouse Ye, My Soul

From thy lethargy, 'rouse ye, my soul: Trim thy lamp, for the light burneth dim. There's a work now awaiting thy hand, Before cometh the harvester grim.

Ah, too long hast thou been held in thrall With the pleasures and cares of the earth. Never seeking to offer thy all, For the jewels of Heavenly worth.

Arise now, my soul, that ye may With the valiant faithful be found, Who are spreading the gospel's bright ray, Sending truth through all the world around; For behold now the time draweth nigh That our spirits have waited for long, When earth's bridegroom will come from on high Mid the glory of Heaven's great throng.

With the sanctified ones of our God, Would'st thou join in the anthem of praise? Be with those who have clung to the rod, And in righteousness spent all their days. Then ne'er more let thy zeal become cold: Press on, on with thy face to the light Till thou art as the thrice refined gold Made with purity gloriously bright.

Raymond, Canada
Helen Kimball Orgill