Sleep not, soldier of the cross,
Foes are lurking all around;
Look not here to find repose;
This is but thy battleground.

Up! and take thy shield and sword!
Up! it is the call of Heav’n;
Shrink not faithless from thy Lord;
Nobly strive, as He hath striv’n.

Break through all the force of ill;
Tread the might of passion down;
Struggling onward, onward still,
To thy conqu’ring Savior’s crown.

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.

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