159 And gave Him to be Head over all things

HE

to the Church.

EAD of the Church triumphant,
We joyfully adore Thee!
Till Thou appear,

Thy members here

Shall sing like those in glory.
We lift our hearts and voices
With blest anticipation,
And cry aloud,

And give to God

The praise of our salvation.

Thou dost conduct Thy people
Through torrents of temptation;
Nor will we fear,

While Thou art near,

The fire of tribulation.

The world, with sin and Satan,
In vain our march opposes,
By Thee we shall

Break through them all,

Ere death our conflict closes.

By faith we see the glory
To which Thou shalt restore us,
The world despise

For that high prize

Which Thou hast set before us.

P.M.

160

And if Thou count us worthy,
We each, as dying Stephen,
Shall see Thee stand

At God's right hand,

To take us up to heaven.

H°

Rev. vii. 13-17.

C.M.

OW bright those glorious spirits shine!
Whence all their white array?

How came they to the blissful seats
Of everlasting day?

Lo these are they, from sufferings great
Who came to realms of light,

And in the blood of Christ have washed
Those robes which shine so bright.

Now, with triumphant palms, they stand
Before the throne on high,

And serve the God they love, amidst

The glories of the sky.

His presence fills each heart with joy,
Tunes every mouth to sing;
By day, by night, the sacred courts
With loud hosannas ring.

Hunger and thirst are felt no more,
Nor suns with scorching ray;

God is their sun, whose cheering beams
Diffuse eternal day.

The Lamb which dwells amidst the throne
Shall o'er them still preside,
Feed them with nourishment divine,
And all their footsteps guide.

161 I beheld, and, lo! a great multitude, which no man could number.

L

L.M.

O! round the throne, at God's right hand,
The saints in countless myriads stand;

Of every tongue redeemed to God,
Arrayed in garments washed in blood.

Through tribulation great they came;
They bore the cross, despised the shame;
From all their labours now they rest,
In God's eternal glory blest.

Hunger and thirst they feel no more;
Nor sin, nor pain, nor death deplore:
The tears are wiped from every eye,
And sorrow heaves no troubled sigh.

They see their Saviour face to face,
And sing the triumphs of His grace;
Him, day and night, they ceaseless praise,
To Him their loud hosannas raise,—

"Worthy the Lamb, for sinners slain,
Through endless years to live and reign;
Thou hast redeemed us by Thy blood,
And made us kings and priests to God."

162 Be thou faithful unto death, and I will give thee a crown of life.

HE Son of God goes forth to war,

THE

kingly crown to gain;

His blood-red banner streams afar,
Who follows in His train?

Who best can drink his cup of woe
Triumphant over pain,

Who patient bears his cross below,
He follows in His train.

The martyr first, whose eagle eye
Could pierce beyond the grave,
Who saw his Master in the sky,
And called on Him to save.

Like Him, with pardon on his tongue,
In midst of mortal pain,

He prayed for them that did the wrong,
Who follows in his train?

A glorious band, the chosen few,

On whom the Spirit came;

C.M.

Twelve valiant saints, their hope they knew,
And mocked the cross and flame.

They met the tyrant's brandished steel,

The lion's gory mane;

They bowed their necks the death to feel:
Who follows in their train?

A noble army, men and boys,

The matron and the maid,
Around the Saviour's throne rejoice,
In robes of light arrayed.

They climbed the steep ascent of heaven,
Through peril, toil, and pain;
O God! to us may grace be given,
To follow in their train.

163 These are they which came out of great tribulation, and have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb.

WHA

HAT are these in bright array,
This innumerable throng,

Round the altar, night and day,
Hymning one triumphant song?
"Worthy is the Lamb once slain,
Blessing, honour, glory, power,
Wisdom, riches, to obtain

New dominion every hour."

These through fiery trials trod;
These from great affliction came;
Now before the throne of God,

Sealed with His Almighty Name,
Clad in raiment pure and white,
Victor palms in every hand,

Through their dear Redeemer's might,
More than conquerors they stand.

7's.