Lo! 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 labors 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 O, 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.