By A Collection of Hymns

      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.