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tr., John Brownlie



The saints of God in yonder realm,

Have crowns of varied gem;

Outshining far in brilliant sheen,

Earth's fairest diadem;

And they whose brows are decked with light,

Are crowned as victors in the fight.


The palms they wear in yonder realm,

And wave before the throne,

Proclaim the triumph they achieved,

When sin was overthrown;—

Those palms were won where willows grow,

Beside the weeping streams below.


The robes of white in yonder realm,

All glistening as the snow,

Were washed in streams that from the Cross

Of bitter anguish flow;

No filthy stain their whiteness mars,

They shine in beauty as the stars.


The praise they sing in yonder realm,—

The songs from lips that rise,

Were tuned in night where hearts are sad,

And sorrow fills the eyes;

The weeping songs that 'woke the night,

Now thrill the land of fadeless light.


O Jesus Christ, to yonder realm,

Thy longing children bring;

And give them crowns, and palms, and robes,

And songs of praise, to sing;

And grant them here, by grace to win,

In conflict with the powers of sin.

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