Behold yon bright array,

Before the sapphire throne;

There, young nor old, nor rich nor poor,

There, bond nor free, are known.

At once they strike their lyres,

At once break off,--and all,

With trembling joy, and silent love,

In adoration fall.

Whate'er their lot below,

As fellow-heirs of bliss,

In heaven their services are one:

Let earth be heaven in this.

As brethren, thus may we

Worship with one accord;

In stillness wait, in prayer bow down,

Stand up, and bless the Lord.

As pilgrims on their way,

Thousands these courts shall fill,

And travel on from strength to strength,

Abreast to Zion's hill.

May all those pilgrims meet,

When faith is changed to sight

Where the Lord God Himself shall be

The temple and the light:--

Where on the sea of glass,

The ransom'd nations sing,

And to the Lamb that once was slain

Eternal glory bring.