1 For all thy saints, a noble throng,
who fell by fire and sword,
who soon were called, or waited long,
we praise thy name, O Lord;
2 for him who left his father’s side,
nor lingered by the shore,
when, softer than the weltering tide,
thy summons glided o’er;
3 who stood beside the maiden dead,
who climbed the mount with thee,
and saw the glory round thy head,
one of thy chosen three;
4 Who knelt beneath the olive shade,
who drank thy cup of pain,
and passed from Herod’s flashing blade
to see thy face again.
5 Lord, give us grace, and give us love,
like him to leave behind
earth’s cares and joys, and look above
with true and earnest mind.
6 So shall we learn to drink thy cup,
so meek and firm be found,
when thou shalt come to take us up
where thine elect are crowned.
Source: CPWI Hymnal #833