8-7s. 1 WHAT are these arrayed in white, Brighter than the noon-day sun? Foremost of the sons of light, Nearest the eternal throne? These are they that bore the cross, Nobly for their Master stood; Sufferers in his righteous cause, Followers of the dying God.
2 Out of great distress they came, Washed their robes by faith below In the blood of yonder Lamb, Blood that washes white as snow: Therefore are they next the throne, Serve their Maker day and night; God resides among his own, God doth in his saints delight.
3 More than conquerors at last, Here they find their trials o'er; They have all their sufferings past, Hunger now and thirst no more; No excessive heat they feel From the sun's directer ray, In a milder clime they dwell, Region of eternal day.
4 He that on the throne doth reign, Them the Lamb shall always feed, With the tree of life sustain, To the living fountains lead; He shall all their sorrows chase, All their wants at once remove, Wipe the tears from every face, Fill up every soul with love.
