1. Behold yon bright and countless throng,
Around the throne above,
And hearken to their ceaseless song
Of Jesu’s dying love:
From the rising of the sun,
Unto where his course is done,
Out of ev’ry land they came,
All who loved the Saviour’s name.
2. Behold the robes so dazzling white,
In which array’d they stand;
Like victors from a glorious fight,
Palms waving in their hand:
Out of sorrow, toil, and shame,
Gladly borne for Jesus’ name;
In His blood their robes made white,
In His strength they won the fight.
3. Behold they strike their golden lyres,
How sweet, how loud the song!
All heaven’s vast angelic choirs,
In united strain prolong.
“Glory be to Him, Who gave
His dear Son our souls to save;
Glory to the Lamb, Whose blood
Reconciled us all to God!”
4. Soon we shall join that countless throng,
Safe in the heav’nly fold,
And sing that new, that happy song,
And wear our crowns of gold.
Let us glory in the cross,
Count all else but worthless dross,
And amidst reproach and shame,
Praise our Jesu’s precious name.