1 What happy Men, or Angels, these,
That all their Robes are spotless white?
Whence did this glorious Troop arrive
At the pure Realms of heav'nly Light?"
2 From torturing Racks, and burning Fires,
And Seas of their own Blood, they came;
But nobler Blood has wash'd their Robes,
Flowing from Christ the dying Lamb.
3 Now they approach th' Almighty Throne
With loud Hosannas Night and Day;
Sweet Anthems to the great Three-One
Measure their bless'd Eternity.
4 No more shall Hunger pain their Souls;
He bids their parching Thirst be gone;
And spreads the Shadow of his Wings
To screen them from the scorching Sun.
5 The Lamb that fills the middle Throne
Shall shed around his milder Beams;
There shall they feast on his rich love,
And drink full Joys from living Streams.
6 Thus shall their mighty Bliss renew
Through the vast Round of endless Years;
And the soft Hand of sov'reign Grace
Heals all their Wounds, and wipes their Tears.
|First Line:||What happy Men, or Angels, these|
|Title:||The Business and Blessedness of glorified Saints|
|Scripture:||Revelation 13; Revelation 14; Revelation 15|