Oh, lift your heads! The race is set
Oh, lift your heads! The race is set
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Oh, lift your heads! The race is set, Demanding that all weight and sin Be put away, and, tireless yet, We with endurance run to win! |
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And yet this race is set in grace, The very Christ whom we enjoy. For mortal strength there is no place; We must the Spirit's power employ. |
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The prize to gain, ahead it lies: How precious! 'Tis, the very Christ! Laid hold by Him, we e'er would rise And run by His supporting might. |
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Our running's not for selfish pride, Nor for our boast in crown or throne. 'Tis duty ours, self-choice aside. We run for Christ and Christ alone! |
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For this we give our life and all, Our might, our strength, our days withal. To Him we live—the upward call. To Him we die—the gain of all! |
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And when we fall, we quickly rise! An all-sufficient grace outpoured, And varied still, with stores untried, Exhaustless grace He doth afford. |
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His partners dear, His brethren true, No time is there for looking back! One thing remains: to e'er pursue The One who doth our hearts attract. |
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No more we hope in things of old; No more we dream of vanity! The peerless Christ is now our goal, Our prize for all eternity! |
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