By John was seen a wondrous sight,

A noble light,

A picture very glorious:

A multitude stood ’fore him there

All bright and fair,

On heav’nly plain victorious;

Their heart and mood

Were full of good,

That mortal man

With gold ne’er can

Procure, so high ’tis o’er us.

Palm branches in their hands they bore,

They stood before

The Lamb’s throne, ’fore the Saviour;

Praise from their lips did ever flow,

Their robes like snow,

Their song still higher ever,

So sweetly rang;

Glad thanks they sang,

And in their song

The holy throng

Of angels joinèd ever.

“Who,” said the wond’ring John, “are they

In white array,

Whom now I see before me?”

“They are,” said one from out the crowd

That round him stood,

One of the elders hoary,

“They’re men, my son,

Who fought and won

The fight of faith,

Despis’d the scath,

Attain’d the prize of glory.

“They’re those who on the earth below,

Long, long ago,

Pass’d through great tribulation;

Who for the honour of their Lord

And of His word,

All grief and all vexation,

From blame all free

But patiently,

Though smarting sore

By God’s help bore,

O’ercame with exultation.

“They wash’d their robes and made them white

(Their hearts were right),

In faith’s bath them renewing,

And they resisted evermore

With all their pow’r

Hell's art, it quite subduing,

Did aye deride

Earth’s pomp and pride,

Chose Jesu’s blood

As their chief good,

All other good eschewing.

“And therefore with their doings, they

Stand there for aye,

Where God’s fair temple’s standing,

The temple where they night and day

Praise God for aye,

His glorious name commending.

There do they live

With nought to grieve,

From toil all free

Joys taste and see,

That never know an ending.

“There in His dwelling sitteth God

And spreads abroad

His goodness as a cover,

There with bliss manifold is bless’d

In quiet rest,

The wearied whose life’s over;

What pleasure gives,

The heart relieves,

The longing stills,

And the eye fills,

In full bloom stands there ever.

“No thirst, nor hunger there, no need;

The heav’nly bread

All wants aye satisfieth;

And shineth there the sun no more

In too great pow’r,

Its light pure joy supplieth;

Heav’n’s sun so bright

And heart’s delight,

Is our great Lord

The living Word,

Who no good thing denieth.”

The Lamb His flock will ever feed

E’en as they need,

In pastures never wasting;

He will them to the fountain bring,

Whence ever spring

Streams of life everlasting;

And certainly

Ne’er rest will He,

Till wash’d away

All tears for aye

Are, and His bliss we’re tasting.