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THE Son of God goes forth to war,
A kingly crown to gain :
Who follows in His train?
Who best can drink his
He follows in His train.
The martyr first, whose eagle eye
Could pierce beyond the grave ;
And called on Him to save.
In midst of mortal pain,
Who follows in his train ?
A noble army, men and boys,
The matron and the maid,
In robes of light arrayed.
Through peril, toil, and pain ;
To follow in their train !
THERE is a blessed home
Beyond this land of woe,
Nor tears of sorrow flow;
And patient hope is crowned,
Its glory throws around.
Good angels know it well;
that never cease
Ten thousand saints adore
And Spirit evermore.
Nor fear to tread below
Of daily toil and woe.
In uncomplaining love ;
Shall welcome you above.
TEN thousand times ten thousand,
In sparkling raiment bright,
Throng up the steeps of light :
Their fight with death and sin;
And let the victors in.
Fills all the earth and sky !
Bespeaks the triumph nigh!
And all its tribes were made !
A thousand-fold repaid !
On Canaan's happy shore,
Where partings are no more !
That brimmed with tears of late ;
Nor widows desolate.
Thou Lamb for sinners slain,
the roll of Thine elect,
Thine exiles long for home ;
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 ! 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.
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.
O! round the throne, at God's right hand,
The saints in countless myriads stand;