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158

THE Son of God goes forth to war,

A kingly crown to gain :
His blood-red banner streams afar;

Who follows in His train?

Who best can drink his

cup

of

woe,
Triumphant over pain,
Who patient bears his cross below,

He follows in His train.

The martyr first, whose eagle eye

Could pierce beyond the grave ;
Who saw his Master in the sky,

And called on Him to save.
Like Him, with pardon on his tongue

In midst of mortal pain,
He prayed for them that did the wrong :

Who follows in his train ?

A noble army, men and boys,

The matron and the maid,
Around the Saviour's throne rejoice,

In robes of light arrayed.
They climbed the steep ascent of heaven,

Through peril, toil, and pain ;
O God, to us may grace be given

To follow in their train !

159

THERE is a blessed home

Beyond this land of woe,
Where trials never come,

Nor tears of sorrow flow;
Where faith is lost in sight,

And patient hope is crowned,
And everlasting light

Its glory throws around.
There is a land of peace,

Good angels know it well;
Glad
songs

that never cease
Within its portals swell :
Around its glorious throne

Ten thousand saints adore
Christ, with the Father One,

And Spirit evermore.
Look up, ye saints of God,

Nor fear to tread below
The path your Saviour trod

Of daily toil and woe.
Wait but a little while

In uncomplaining love ;
His own most gracious smile

Shall welcome you above.

160

TEN thousand times ten thousand,

In sparkling raiment bright,
The armies of the ransomed saints

Throng up the steeps of light :
'Tis finished ! all is finished,

Their fight with death and sin;
Fling open wide the golden gates,

And let the victors in.
What rush of Alleluias

Fills all the earth and sky !
What ringing of a thousand harps

Bespeaks the triumph nigh!
O day, for which creation

And all its tribes were made !
O joy, for all its former woes

A thousand-fold repaid !
Oh! then what raptured greetings

On Canaan's happy shore,
What knitting severed friendships up,

Where partings are no more !
Then eyes with joy shall sparkle

That brimmed with tears of late ;
Orphans no longer fatherless,

Nor widows desolate.
Bring near Thy great salvation,

Thou Lamb for sinners slain,
Fill
up

the roll of Thine elect,
Then take Thy power and reign :
Appear, Desire of nations,

Thine exiles long for home ;
Show in the heavens Thy promised sign ;
Thou Prince and Saviour, come.

161 FOR all the saints who from their labours rest,

Who Thee by faith before the world confessed, Thy Name, O Jesu, be for ever blest.

Alleluia ! Thou wast their Rock, their Fortress, and their

Might; Thou, Lord, their Captain in the well-fought fight; Thou in the darkness drear their one true Light.

Alleluia ! Oh! may Thy soldiers, faithful, true, and bold, Fight as the saints who nobly fought of old, And win, with them, the victor's crown of gold.

Alleluia !
O blest communion, fellowship divine !
We feebly struggle, they in glory shine ;
Yet all are one in Thee, for all are Thine.

Alleluia !
And when the strife is fierce, the warfare long,
Steals on the ear the distant triumph song,
And hearts are brave again, and arms are strong.

Alleluia ! The golden evening brightens in the west; Soon, soon to faithful warriors comes their rest : Sweet is the calm of Paradise the blest.

Alleluia ! But lo! there breaks a yet more glorious day ; The saints triumphant rise in bright array: The King of glory passes on His way.

Alleluia !

From earth’s wide bounds, from ocean's farthest

coast, Through gates of pearl streams in the countless

host, Singing to Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.

Alleluia !

162 LOM

O! round the throne, at God's right hand,

The saints in countless myriads stand;
Of every tongue redeemed to God,
Arrayed in garments washed in blood.
Through tribulation great they came,
And bore the cross, and scorned the shame :
From all their labours now they rest,
In God's eternal glory blest.
Hunger and thirst they feel no more,
Nor sin, nor pain, nor death deplore;
The tear is wiped from every eye,
And sorrow yields to endless joy.
They see their Saviour face to face,
And sing the triumphs of His grace ;
Him day and night they ceaseless praise,
And thus their loud Hosannas raise :
‘Worthy the Lamb, for sinners slain,
Through endless years to live and reign!
Thou hast redeemed us by 'Thy blood,
And made us kings and priests to God.'

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