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Ye that are now in heavenly glory one,
May we together join, with earthly voice,
Hymning your everlasting victories, won

By arduous labours, and the better choice.

Now love and unveiled truth doth feed for aye,
And ye drink full of joy's o'erflowing wells,
Where slakes the soul her thirst that cannot die;
And by the sacred fountain ever dwells.

From inmost shrines from whence the Godhead
streams,

The King, himself, with his own countenance, Shines o'er you, and, unsparing of his beams,

Fills the soul's dwelling with his radiance.

From out the golden altar, 'neath the throne,
Blood of the Innocent for mercy pleads;
Shed in the cause of Him who sits thereon,
For ever sues anew, and ever bleeds.

Mid lightnings numberless, thro' the dim vast
Of light, the adoring elders bow them down,
To Him, whose kingdom shall for ever last;
And each before him casts his golden crown.

Nations and languages of countless tongue,

With inhilant palm, and robes washed white in

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If e'er my heart forget

Her welfare or her woe,
Let every joy this heart forsake,
And every grief o'erflow.

For her my tears shall fall;
For her my prayers ascend:

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High on his everlasting throne,

The King of saints his work surveys;
Marks the dear souls he calls his own,
And smiles on that peculiar race.
He rests well pleased their toil to see,
Beneath his easy yoke they move,
With all their heart and strength agree,
In the sweet labour of his love.

His eye the world at once looks through-
A vast, uncultivated field;

Mountains and vales in ghastly show,

Aommon uncouth prospect vield

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Alarmed at their successful toil,

Satan and his wild spirits rage,

They labour to tear up and spoil,
And blast the rising heritage.

In every wilderness they sow

The seed of death, the carnal mind;
They would not let one virtue grow,
Nor leave one seed of good behind.

Yet still the servants of the Lord,
Look up and calmly persevere;
Supported by the Master's word,

The adverse powers they scorn to fear.

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