1 My drowsy powers, 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 heaven 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 labour'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' heavenly hill, And sit and warm our hearts.
6 Then shall our active spirits move, Upward our souls shall rise: With hands of faith and wings of love We'll fly and take the prize.