Flowers in Golden Vase with Lord, how secure and blest are they and Awake, my soul, stretch ev’ry nerve

  Lord, how secure and blest are they
  Who feel the joys of pardoned sin!
Should storms of wrath shake earth and sea,
  Their minds have heav’n and peace within.

  The day glides sweetly o’er their heads,
  Made up of innocence and love;
And soft and silent as the shades,
  Their nightly minutes gently move.

  Quick as their thoughts their joys come on,
  But fly not half so swift away:
Their souls are ever bright as noon,
  And calm as summer evenings be.

  How oft they look to the heav’nly hills,
  Where groves of living pleasures grow;
And longing hopes and cheerful smiles,
  Sit undisturbed upon their brow!

  They scorn to seek earth’s golden toys,
  But spend the day, and share the night,
In numbering o’er the richer joys
  That heaven prepares for their delight.
                            Isaac Watts
Awake, my soul, stretch ev’ry nerve,
  And press with vigor on;
A heav’nly race demands thy zeal,
  And an immortal crown.

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

‘Tis God’s all-animating voice
  That calls thee from on high;
‘Tis His own hand presents the prize
  To thine uplifted eye:

That prize with peerless glories bright,
  Which shall new lustre boast,
When victor’s wreaths and monarchs’ gems
  Shall blend in common dust.

Blest Saviour, introduced by Thee,
  Have I my race begun;
And, crowned with victory, at Thy feet
  I’ll lay my honors down.
        Rev. Philip Doddridge