Lukewarm souls, the foe grows stronger, See what hosts your camp surround; Arm to battle, lag no longer, Hark, the silver trumpets sound! Wake, ye sleepers, wake—what mean you? Sin besets you round about; Up and search, the world’s within you, Slay or chase the traitor out.
What enchants you—sloth or pleasure? Pluck right eyes, with right hands part; Ask your conscience, where’s your treasure? For be certain, there’s your heart. Give the fawning foe no credit; See the bloody flag unfurled; That base heart, the truth has said it, Loves not God that loves the world.
God and mammon—oh, be wiser— Serve them both, it cannot be; Ease in warfare, saint and miser: These can never well agree. Shun the shame of basely falling, Cumbered captives clogged with clay; Prove your faith, make sure your calling, Wield the sword, and win the day.
Onward press unto perfection, Watch and pray, and all things prove; To ensure your own election, Set your heart on things above. Shun backsliding, scorn dissembling, Seek salvation through and through; Work it out with fear and trembling— ’Tis your God that works in you.