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100. ROUND the Lord in glory seated,

Cherubim and Seraphim Fill'd His temple, and repeated

Each to each the alternate hymn.

“Lord, Thy glory fills the heaven,

Earth is with its fulness stored ; Unto Thee be glory given,

Holy, holy, holy Lord.”

Heaven is still with glory ringing,

Earth takes up the Angel's cry, "Holy, holy, holy," singing,

“ Lord of hosts, the Lord most high."

With His Seraph train before Him,

With His holy Church below, Thus conspire we to adore Him,

Bid we thus our anthem flow.

“Lord, Thy glory fills the heaven,

Earth is with its fulness stored ; Unto Thee be glory given,

Holy, holy, holy Lord.”

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101. WHO HO are these array'd in white,

Brighter than the noonday san 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 Christ of God.

Out of great distress they came,

Wash'd their robes by faith below In the blood of yonder Lamb,

Blood that washes white as snow : Therefore are they next the throne,

Serve their Maker day and night; God doth dwell among His own,

God doth in His saints delight.

He that on the throne doth reign

Them for evermore shall feed, With the tree of life sustain,

To the living fountains lead ; He shall all their griefs remove,

He shall all their wants supply; God Himself, the God of love,

Tears shall wipe from every eye.

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THE saints on earth and those above

But one communion make; Join'd to their Lord in bonds of love,

All of His grace partake.

One family we dwell in Him:

One church, above, beneath ; Though now divided by the stream,

The narrow stream of death.

One army of the living God,

To His command we bow; Part of the host have cross'd the flood,

And part are crossing now.

102.

Lo! thousands to their endless home

Are swiftly borne away;
And we are to the margin come,

And soon must launch as they.

Lord Jesus! be our constant Guide:

Then, when the word is given,
Bid death's cold flood its waves divide,

And show the path to heaven.

men.

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103. THE Son of God goes forth to war,

Like Him, with pardon on his tongue, A kingly crown to gain ;

In midst of mortal pain, His blood-red banner streams afar: He pray'd for them that did the wrong: Who follows in His train ?

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.

A glorious band, the chosen few,

On whom the Spirit came; Twelvevaliant saints, their hope theyknew,

And mock'd the cross and flame.

The martyr first, whose eagle eye

Could pierce beyond the grave; Who saw his Master in the sky, And callid on Him to save.

They climb'd the steep ascent of heaven

Through peril, toil, and pain:
O God! to us may grace be given

To follow in their train.

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