L.M.
1
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?
2
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.
3
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?
4
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.
5
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.
6
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?
7
Jesus, the Saviour, is their theme;
They sing the wonders of His Name;
To Him ascribing power and grace,
Dominion, and eternal praise.
