167 VI.
The Christian Race.
7,7,7,7
Wer das Kleinod will erlangen
J. Mentzer. 1704.
Who would make the prize his own, Runs as swiftly as he can; Who would gain an earthly crown, Strives in earnest as a man; Trains himself betimes with care For the conflict he would share, Casts aside whate'er could be Hindrance to His victory. | Lord, Thou biddest me aspire To a prize so high, so grand, That it sets my soul on fire To be found amidst Thy band: Oh how brightly shineth down From Thy heights the starry crown And the throne to victors given, Who for Thee have bravely striven! | Yet it seems I strive in vain, Lord, in pity look on me, Thou my weakness must sustain, Set me now from all things free That would keep me from my goal; Come, Thyself prepare my soul, Give me joy and strength and life, Help me in the race, the strife. | 168 Well our utmost efforts worth Is the crown I see afar, Though the blinded sons of earth Care not for our holy war; An exceeding great reward Is that crown of grace, my Lord; Be Thyself my Strength divine, And the prize shall soon be mine. | |