LO, round the throne, a glorious band, The saints in countless myriads stand, Of every tongue redeemed to God, Arrayed in garments washed in blood.
Through tribulation great they came; They bore the cross, despised the shame; From all their labours now they rest, In God’s eternal glory blest.
They see their Saviour face to face, And sing the triumphs of His grace; Him day and night they ceaseless praise, To Him the loud thanksgiving 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.’
So may we tread the sacred road That saints and holy martyrs trod; Wage to the end the glorious strife, And win, like them, a crown of life.
Rowland Hill, 1744-1833, et al