I. Watts; W. Cameron
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.