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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 tort'ring 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 hosannahs 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
Thro' the vast round of endless years;
And the soft hand of sov'reign grace
Heals all their wounds, and wipes their tears.
Text Information | |
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First Line: | What happy men, or angels, these |
Title: | The business and blessedness of glorified Saints |
Meter: | L. M. |
Language: | English |
Publication Date: | 1793 |
Scripture: |