Exalted high at God’s right hand,
Nearer the throne than cherubs stand,
With glory crowned, in white array,
My wondering soul asks, Who are they?

These are the saints beloved of God,
Washed are their robes in Jesus’ blood,
More spotless than the purest white,
They shine in uncreated light.

Brighter than angels, lo! they shine,
Their glories great, and all divine:
Tell me their origin, and say,
Their order what, and whence came they?

Through tribulation great they came,
They bore the cross, and scorned the shame:
Within the living temple blest,
In God they dwell, and on Him rest.

Hunger they ne’er shall feel again,
Nor burning thirst shall they sustain:
To wells of living water led,
By God the Lamb for ever fed.

Unknown to mortal ears, they sing
The secret glories of their King;
Tell me the subject of their lays,
And whence their loud exalted praise?

Jesus, the Saviour, is their theme;
They sing the wonders of His Name;
To Him ascribing power and grace,
Dominion, and eternal praise.