I. Watts; W. Cameron

C.M.

HOW bright these glorious spirits shine!

Whence all their white array?

How came they to the blissful seats

Of everlasting day?

2

Lo, these are they from sufferings great,

Who came to realms of light;

And in the blood of Christ have washed

Those robes that shine so bright.

3

Now with triumphal palms they stand

Before the throne on high,

And serve the God they love, amidst

The glories of the sky.

4

Hunger and thirst are felt no more,

Nor suns with scorching ray;

God is their Sun, whose cheering beams

Diffuse eternal day.

5

The Lamb, which dwells amidst the throne,

Shall o’er them still preside,

Feed them with nourishment divine,

And all their footsteps guide.

6

’Midst pastures green He’ll lead His flock,

Where living streams appear;

And God the Lord from every eye

Shall wipe off every tear.

7

To Him who sits upon the throne,

The God, whom we adore,

And to the Lamb that once was slain,

Be glory evermore.