HEAD of the Church triumphant !
We joyfully adore Thee;
Till Thou appear, thy members here
Shall sing like those in glory:
We lift our hearts and voices
In blest anticipation,
And cry aloud, and give to God
The praise of our salvation.
Thou dost conduct thy people
Through torrents of temptation;
Nor will we fear, while Thou art near,
The fire of tribulation:
The world, with sin and Satan,
In vain our march opposes;
By Thee we shall break through them all,
Ere death our conflict closes.
By faith we see the glory
To which Thou shalt restore us,
The world despise for that high prize,
Which Thou hast set before us:
And if Thou count us worthy,
We each, as dying Stephen,
Shall see Thee stand at God's right hand,
To take us up to heaven.
THE saints below and saints above
But one communion make;
Join'd to the Lord in bonds of love,
All of his grace partake.
One family, we dwell in Him,
One Church, above, beneath;
Though now divided by the stream,
The narrow stream of death.
One army of the living God,
To his command we bow;
Part of the host have cross'd the flood,
And part are crossing now.
O Jesu, be our constant guide!
Then, when the word is given,
Bid death's cold flood its waves divide,
And land us safe in heaven.
WHO are these in bright array?
This unnumber'd white-rob'd throng,
Round the altar, night and day,
Singing one triumphant song?
Worthy is the Lamb once slain,
Blessing, honour, glory, power,
Wisdom, riches, to obtain,
New dominion every hour."
These through fiery trials trod,
These from great affliction came;
Now before the throne of God,
Seal'd with his Eternal Name:
Clad in raiment pure and white,
Victor-palms in every hand,
Through their great Redeemer's might,
More than conquerors they stand.
Hunger, thirst, disease unknown,
On immortal fruits they feed;
Them the Lamb amidst the throne
Shall to living fountains lead:
Joy and gladness banish sighs,
Perfect love dispels all fears;
And for ever from their eyes
God shall wipe away all tears.
FOR all thy saints, O Lord,
Who strove in Thee to live;
Who follow'd Thee, obey'd, ador'd,
Our grateful praise receive.
For all thy saints, O Lord,
Accept our thankful cry,
Who counted Thee their great reward,
And strove in Thee to die.
They all in life and death,
With Thee, their Lord, in view,
Learn'd from thy Holy Spirit's breath
To suffer and to do.
For this thy Name we bless,
And humbly pray that we
May follow them in holiness,
And live and die in Thee.
NO more to sigh, no more to weep,
Departed saints in Jesus sleep;
A voice from heaven declares them blest,
In everlasting peace they rest.
What though the grave their bodies hold,
They have not left the Christian fold;
Their Lord, their King, their God most High,
They still with praises glorify.
In Paradise the righteous meet
Around their dear Redeemer's feet;
Awaiting there the trump, that all
Before the judgment-seat shall call.
May we, like blessed saints, hold fast
Our heavenly hope while life shall last;
May we like them our faith maintain,
And with them endless glory gain.
THEE we adore, Eternal Name,
And humbly own to Thee,
How feeble is our mortal frame,
What dying worms are we.
Dangers stand thick through all the ground,
To force us to the tomb;
And sore diseases wait around,
To hurry mortals home.
Infinite joy, or endless woe,
May hang on every breath;
And yet how unconcern'd we go
Upon the brink of death.
Waken, O Lord, our drowsy sense,
To walk this dang'rous road;
And when our souls are summon'd hence,
May they be found with God.
JESUS shall reign where'er the sun
Doth his successive journeys run;
His kingdom stretch from shore to shore,
Till moons shall wax and wane no more.
People and realms of every tongue
Dwell on his love with sweetest song;
And infant voices shall proclaim
Their early blessings on his Name.
Blessings abound where'er He reigns;
The pris'ner leaps to lose his chains;
The weary find eternal rest,
And all the sons of want are blest.
Let every creature rise and bring
Peculiar honours to our King;
Angels descend with songs again,
And earth repeat the loud Amen!
FROM Greenland's icy mountains,
From India's coral strand,
Where Afric's sunny fountains
Roll down their golden sand;
From many an ancient river,
From many a palmy plain,
They call us to deliver
Their land from error's chain.
What though the spicy breezes
Blow soft o'er Ceylon's isle,
Though every prospect pleases,
And only man is vile;
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