Sleep not, soldier of the cross!

Foes are lurking all around;

Look not here to find repose;

This is but thy battle-ground;

2 Up! and take thy shield and sword;

Up! it is the call of heaven:

Shrink not faithless from the Lord:

Nobly strive as he hath striven.

3 Break through all the force of ill;

Tread the might of passion down—

Struggling onward, onward still,

To the conquering Saviour’s crown!

4 Through the midst of toil and pain,

Let this thought ne’er leave thy breast:

Every triumph thou dost gain

Makes more sweet thy coming rest.