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Verse 1

Awake, my soul--stretch every nerve,
And press with vigor on;
A heavenly race demands thy zeal,
A bright, immortal crown.

Verse 2

’Tis God’s all-animating voice
That calls thee from on high:
’Tis his own hand presents the prize
To thine aspiring eye.

Verse 3

A cloud of witnesses around,
Hold thee in full survey:
Forget the steps already trod,
And onward urge thy way.

Verse 4

Blest Savior, introduced by thee
Have we our race begun;
And, crowned with vict’ry, at thy feet
We’ll lay our laurels down.

Verse 1

Come, we that love the Lord,
And let our joys be known,
Join in a song with sweet accord,
And thus surround the throne.

Refrain

We’re marching to Zion,
Beautiful, beautiful Zion,
We’re marching upward to Zion,
The beautiful city of God.

Verse 2

Let those refuse to sing
Who never knew our God;
But children of the heavenly King
May speak their joys abroad.

Verse 3

The hill of Zion yields
A thousand sacred sweets,
Before we reach the heavenly fields,
Or walk the golden streets.

Verse 4

Then let our songs abound,
And ev’ry tear be dry;
We’re marching thro’ Immanuel’s ground
To fairer worlds on high.