With zeal they strike the sacred lyre.
To thee, O Christ, nor ever tire.
Believing in thy name,
They in thy footsteps trod;
Thy righteousness their hope,
Their only plea thy blood:
Lo. now they reign with thee above,
Behold thy face, and sing thy love.
And shall not we aspire,
Like them, our course to run?
The crown if we would wear,
That crown must first be won:
Divinely taught, they showed the way,
First to believe, and then obey.
O! round the throne, a glorious band,
The saints in countless myriads stand;
Of every tongue redeemed to God,
Arrayed in garments washed in blood.
2 Through tribulation great they came;
They bore the cross, despised the shame;
But now from all their labours rest,
In God's eternal glory blest.
3 They see the Saviour face to face;
They sing the triumph of his grace;
And day and night, with ceaseless praise,
To him their loud hosannas raise.
4 0, may we tread the sacred road
That holy saints and martyrs trod;
Wage to the end the glorious strife,
And win, like them, a crown of life.
WHO are these arrayed in white, Brighter than the noon-day sun? Foremost of the sons of light;
Nearest the eternal throne?
These are they that bore the cross;
Nobly for their Master stood;
Sufferers in his righteous cause;
Followers of the dying God.
2 Out of great distress they came;
Washed their robes, by faith below,
In thy blood, O glorious Lamb,
Blood that washes white as snow;
Therefore are they next the throne;
Serve their Maker day and night;
God resides among his own,
God doth in his saints delight.
WHO are these in bright array,
This exulting, happy 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."
2 These through fiery trials trod; These from great affliction came; Now, before thy throne, O God, Sealed with thy almighty name: . Clad in raiment pure and white, tor-palms in every hand,
Through the great Redeemer's might,
More than conquerors they stand.
3 Hunger, thirst, disease, unknown,
On immortal fruits they feed;
Them the Lamb, amidst the throne,
Shall to living fountains lead:
Joy and gladness banish sighs;
Perfect love dispels all fears;
And for ever from their eyes
God shall wipe away their tears.
FOR the wings of faith, to rise
Within the veil, and see
Thy saints above, how great their joys!
How bright their glories be!
2 Once they were mourning here below,
And wet their couch with tears;
They wrestled hard, as we do now.
With sins, and doubts, and fears.
3 We ask them whence their victory came; They, with united breath,
Ascribe their conquest to the Lamb,
Their triumph to his death.
4 They marked the footsteps that he trod,
His zeal inspired their breast;
And, following their incarnate God,
Possess the promised rest.
5 Our glorious Leader claims our praise For his own pattern given,
While the great cloud of witnesses
Shows the same path to heaven.
THERE is a holy city,
A happy world above,
Beyond the starry regions,
Built by the God of love;
An everlasting temple,
And saints, arrayed in white,
There serve thee, great Redeemer,
And dwell with thee in light.
2 The humblest child of glory
Outshines the radiant sun;
But who can speak the splendor
Of that eternal throne
Where thou dost sit exalted,
In majesty so bright?
The elders fall before thee,
And angel bands of light.
3 The hosts of saints around thee
Proclaim thy work of grace;
The patriarchs and prophets,
And all the godly race,
Who speak of fiery trials
And tortures on their way;
Who came from tribulation
To everlasting day.
4 And what shall be our journey,
How long we'll stay below,
Or what shall be our trials,
Are not for us to know.
In every day of trouble,
We'll raise our thoughts on high;
We'll think of thy bright temple,
And crowns above the sky.
JERUSALEM! Thou happy home!
Thy glory we would see!
When shall our labours have an end,
In joy, and peace, and thee?
2 When shall these eyes thy heaven-built walls
And pearly gates behold?
Thy bulwarks, with salvation strong,
And streets of shining gold?
30 when, thou city of our God,
Shall we thy courts ascend,
Where congregations ne'er break up,
And Sabbaths have no end?
4 There happier bowers than Eden bloom, Nor sin nor sorrow know:
Blessed seats! through rude and stormy
We onward press to you.
5 Jerusalem, thou happy home!
Qur souls still pant for thee;
Then shall our labours have an end,
When we thy joys shall see.
THESE are the crowns that we shall
When all thy saints are crowned; These are the palms that we shall bear On yonder holy ground.
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