Awake, my soul, stretch every nerve,
And press with vigor on;
A heavenly 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 aspiring eye.

Blest Saviour, introduced by thee
Have I my Race begun,
And crown’d with Vict’ry at thy Feet
I’ll lay mine Honours down.

Rev. Philip Doddridge (June 26, 1702 - October 26, 1751)
Before Philip could read, his mother began to teach him the history of the Old and New Testament from blue Dutch chimney-tiles.  This hymn is from his book
Hymns founded on Various Texts in the Holy Scriptures, 1755