Around the throne of God in Heaven,
Thousands of children stand,
Children whose sins are all forgiven,
A holy, happy band,

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Singing, “Glory, glory,
Glory be to God on high.”

In flowing robes of spotless white
See everyone arrayed;
Dwelling in everlasting light
And joys that never fade,

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What brought them to the world above,
That Heaven so bright and fair,
Where all is peace, and joy, and love;
How came those children there,

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Because the Savior shed His blood
To wash away their sin;
Bathed in that pure and precious flood,
Behold them white and clean,

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On earth they sought the Savior’s grace,
On earth they loved His Name;
So now they see His blessèd face,
And stand before the Lamb,

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How bright these glorious spirits shine!
Whence all their white array?
How came they to the blissful seats
Of everlasting day?

Lo! these are they from sufferings great
Who came to realms of light;
And in the blood of Christ have washed
Those robes which shine so bright.

Now with triumphal palms they stand
Before the throne on high,
And serve the God they love amidst
The glories of the sky.

His presence fills each heart with joy,
Tunes every mouth to sing:
By day, by night, the sacred courts
With glad hosannas ring.

Hunger and thirst are felt no more,
Nor suns with scorching ray;
God is their Sun, whose cheering beams
Diffuse eternal day.

The Lamb, Which dwells amidst the throne
Shall over them still preside,
Feed them with nourishment divine,
And all their footsteps guide.

Midst pastures green He’ll lead His flock
Where living streams appear;
And God the Lord from every eye
Shall wipe off every tear.

To Father, Son and Holy Ghost,
The God Whom we adore,
Be glory, as it was, is now,
And shall be evermore.

Who, who are these beside the chilly wave,
Just on the borders of the silent grave,
Shouting Jesu’s power to save,
“Washed in the blood of the Lamb”?

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“Sweeping through the gates” of the new Jerusalem,
“Washed in the blood of the Lamb,”
“Sweeping through the gates” of the new Jerusalem,
“Washed in the blood of the Lamb.”

These, these are they who, in their youthful days,
Found Jesus early, and in wisdom’s ways
Proved the fullness of His grace,
“Washed in the blood of the Lamb.”

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These, these are they who, in affliction’s woes,
Ever have found in Jesus calm repose,
Such as from a pure heart flows,
“Washed in the blood of the Lamb.”

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These, these are they who, in the conflict dire,
Boldly have stood amid the hottest fire;
Jesus now says, “come up higher,”
“Washed in the blood of the Lamb.”

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Safe, safe upon the ever shining shore,
Sin, pain, and death, and sorrow are all o’er;
Happy now and evermore,
“Washed in the blood of the Lamb.”

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What happy men, or angels, these,
That all their robes are spotless white?
Whence did this glorious troop arrive
At the pure realms of heav’nly light?

From torturing racks and burning fires,
And seas of their own blood they came;
But nobler blood has washed their robes,
Flowing from Christ the dying Lamb.

Now they approach th’Almighty throne,
With loud hosannas night and day;
Sweet anthems to the great Three-One,
Measure their blest eternity.

No more shall hunger pain their souls;
He bids their paring thirst begone,
And spreads the shadow of His wings
To screen them from the parching sun.

The Lamb that fills the middle throne
Shall shed around His milder beams;
There shall they feast on His rich love,
And drink full joys from living streams.

Thus shall their mighty bliss renew
Through the vast round of endless years;
And the soft hand of sov’reign grace
Heals all their wounds and wipes their tears.

What this host? This mighty army,
Conquering every prince of men?
Led by what high King, what champion?
Who, once dead, now lives again?

This, the Church, the Bride of Jesus,
Armor-clad by God’s own hand:
Shield of Faith and Sword of Spirit—
Shod by Gospel, firm to stand!

With the awesome Truth of Heaven,
Christ has girded her around,
So arrayed for every battle,
She shall pull all empires down.

Gleaming in the morning sunlight
See salvation’s helmet shine!
Trusting to that sure protection,
On she fights, renewed in mind.

O’er that heart once bound to evil,
Lies the mail of righteousness,
No satanic accusation
Can defeat such glorious dress!

Terrible in strength and valor,
Jesus leads His host to war,
His the vict’ry, His the conquest!
He has broken down Hell’s door!

Who 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.

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.

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.

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.

Who are these like stars appearing,
These before God’s throne who stand?
Each a golden crown is wearing;
Who are all this glorious band?
Alleluia! Hark, they sing,
Praising loud their heav’nly King.

Who are these of dazzling brightness,
These in God’s own truth arrayed,
Clad in robes of purest whiteness,
Robes whose luster ne’er shall fade,
Ne’er be touched by time’s rude hand?
Whence come all this glorious band?

These are they who have contended
For their Savior’s honor long,
Wrestling on till life was ended,
Following not the sinful throng;
These who well the fight sustained,
Triumph through the Lamb have gained.

These are they whose hearts were riven,
Sore with woe and anguish tried,
Who in prayer full oft have striven
With the God they glorified;
Now, their painful conflict o’er,
God has bid them weep no more.

These, like priests, have watched and waited,
Offering up to Christ their will;
Soul and body consecrated,
Day and night to serve Him still:
Now in God’s most holy place
Blest they stand before His face.

Have you been to Jesus for the cleansing power?
Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb?
Are you fully trusting in His grace this hour?
Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb?

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Are you washed in the blood,
In the soul cleansing blood of the Lamb?
Are your garments spotless? Are they white as snow?
Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb?

Are you walking daily by the Savior’s side?
Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb?
Do you rest each moment in the Crucified?
Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb?

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When the Bridegroom cometh will your robes be white?
Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb?
Will your soul be ready for the mansions bright,
And be washed in the blood of the Lamb?

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Lay aside the garments that are stained with sin,
And be washed in the blood of the Lamb;
There’s a fountain flowing for the soul unclean,
O be washed in the blood of the Lamb!

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Behold a host, arrayed in white,
Like thousand snow clad mountains bright,
With palms they stand. Who is this band
Before the throne of light?
Lo, these are they of glorious fame
Who from the great affliction came
And in the flood of Jesus’ blood
Are cleansed from guilt and blame.
Now gathered in the holy place
Their voices they in worship raise,
Their anthems swell where God doth dwell,
Mid angels’ song of praise.

Despised and scorned, they sojourned here;
But now, how glorious they appear!
Those martyrs stand a priestly band,
God’s throne forever near.
So oft, in troubled days gone by,
In anguish they would weep and sigh.
At home above the God of Love
For aye their tears shall dry.
They now enjoy their Sabbath rest,
The paschal banquet of the blest;
The Lamb, their Lord, at festal board
Himself is Host and Guest.

Then hail, ye mighty legions, yea,
All hail! Now safe and blest for aye,
And praise the Lord, who with His Word
Sustained you on the way.
Ye did the joys of earth disdain,
Ye toiled and sowed in tears and pain.
Farewell, now bring your sheaves and sing
Salvation’s glad refrain.
Swing high your palms, lift up your song,
Yea, make it myriad voices strong.
Eternally shall praise to Thee,
God, and the Lamb belong.

There is a blood-washed multitude, a mighty army strong;
The Lord of hosts their righteousness, redeeming love their song.
They follow Christ Whose Name they bear, to yonder portals bright,
Where He has said His faithful ones shall walk with Him in white.

That precious Name their guiding star, its beams will o’er them cast,
And through its power their trusting souls shall overcome at last.
The glory cloud will bring them safe to yonder palace bright,
Where they shall see Him eye to eye and walk with Him in white.

March on! O blood-washed multitude, for lo! the hour draws nigh,
When we shall hail the King of kings triumphant in the sky.
When songs of praise to Him we love, shall fill the courts of light,
And they that overcome the world, shall walk with Him in white.

Exalted high at God’s right hand,
Nearer the throne than cherubs stand,
With glory crowned, in white array,
My wondering soul says, “Who are they?”

These are the saints beloved of God,
Washed are their robes in Jesus’ blood;
More spotless than the purest white,
They shine in uncreated light.

Brighter than angels, lo! they shine
Their glories great, and all divine;
Tell me their origin, and say
Their order what, and whence they came.

Through tribulation great they came;
They bore the cross, and scorned the shame;
Within the living temple blest,
In God they dwell, and on Him rest.

Hunger they ne’er shall feel again,
Nor burning thirst shall they sustain;
To wells of living waters led
By God, the Lamb, forever fed.

Unknown to mortal ears, they sing
The secret glories of their King;
Tell me the subject of their lays,
And whence their loud exalted praise.

Jesus, the Savior, is their theme;
They sing the wonders of His Name;
To Him ascribing power and grace,
Dominion and eternal praise.

“Amen” they cry to Him alone,
Who dares to fill His Father’s throne;
They give Him glory, and again
Repeat His praise, and say “Amen.”

Hark! the sound of holy voices, chanting at the crystal sea,
Alleluia! Alleluia! Alleluia! Lord, to Thee;
Multitude, which none can number, like the stars in glory stand
Clothed in white apparel, holding palms of victory in their hand.

Patriarch, and holy prophet, who prepared the way of Christ
King, apostle, saint, confessor, martyr and evangelist;
Saintly maiden, godly matron, widows who have watched to prayer
Joined in holy concert, singing to the Lord of all, are there.

They have come from tribulation, and have washed their robes in blood,
Washed them in the blood of Jesus; tried they were, and firm they stood;
Mocked, imprisoned, stoned, tormented, sawn asunder, slain with sword;
They have conquered death and Satan by the might of Christ the Lord.

Marching with Thy cross their banner, they have triumphed, following
Thee, the Captain of salvation, Thee, their Savior and their King;
Gladly, Lord, with Thee they suffered; gladly, Lord, with Thee they died;
And by death to life immortal they were born and glorified.

Now they reign in heav’nly glory, now they walk in golden light,
Now they drink, as from a river, holy bliss and infinite:
Love and peace they taste forever, and all truth and knowledge see
In the beatific vision of the blessèd Trinity.

God of God, the One begotten, Light of light, Emmanuel,
In Whose body joined together all the saints forever dwell;
Pour upon us of Thy fullness that we may forevermore
God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Ghost adore.

These glorious minds, how bright they shine!
Whence all their white array?
How came they to the happy seats
Of everlasting day?

From torturing pains to endless joys
On fiery wheels they rode,
And strangely washed their raiment white
In Jesus’ dying blood.

Now they approach a spotless God,
And bow before His throne
Their warbling harps and sacred songs
Adore the Holy One.

The unveiled glories of His face
Amongst His saints reside,
While the rich treasure of His grace
Sees all their wants supplied.

Tormenting thirst shall leave their souls,
And hunger flee as fast;
The fruit of life’s immortal tree
Shall be their sweet repast.

The Lamb shall lead His heav’nly flock
Where living fountains rise;
And love divine shall wipe away
The sorrows of their eyes.

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,
Arrayed in garments washed in blood.

Through tribulation great they came;
They bore the cross, despised the shame;
But now from all their labors rest,
In God’s eternal glory blest,
In God’s eternal glory blest.

They see the Savior face to face;
They sing the triumph of His grace;
And day and night, with ceaseless praise,
To Him their loud hosannas raise,
To Him their loud hosannas 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.”

O may we tread the sacred road
That holy saints and martyrs trod;
Wage to the end the glorious strife,
And win, like them, a crown of life,
And win, like them, a crown of life!

Lo! round the throne at God’s right hand
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 labors now they rest,
In God’s eternal glory blest.

Hunger and thirst they feel no more;
Nor sin, nor pain, nor death deplore;
The tears are wiped from every eye,
And sorrow yields to endless joy.

They see their Savior face to face,
And sing the triumphs of His grace,
Him, day and night they ceaseless praise,
To Him their loud hosannas 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.

Would you be free from the burden of sin?
There’s power in the blood, power in the blood;
Would you o’er evil a victory win?
There’s wonderful power in the blood.

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There is power, power, wonder working power
In the blood of the Lamb;
There is power, power, wonder working power
In the precious blood of the Lamb.

Would you be free from your passion and pride?
There’s power in the blood, power in the blood;
Come for a cleansing to Calvary’s tide;
There’s wonderful power in the blood.

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Would you be whiter, much whiter than snow?
There’s power in the blood, power in the blood;
Sin stains are lost in its life giving flow.
There’s wonderful power in the blood.

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Would you do service for Jesus your King?
There’s power in the blood, power in the blood;
Would you live daily His praises to sing?
There’s wonderful power in the blood.

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All the way my Savior leads me;
What have I to ask beside?
Can I doubt His tender mercy,
Who through life has been my Guide?
Heav’nly peace, divinest comfort,
Here by faith in Him to dwell!
For I know, whate’er befall me,
Jesus doeth all things well;
For I know, whate’er befall me,
Jesus doeth all things well.

All the way my Savior leads me,
Cheers each winding path I tread;
Gives me grace for every trial,
Feeds me with the living Bread.
Though my weary steps may falter,
And my soul athirst may be,
Gushing from the Rock before me,
Lo! A spring of joy I see;
Gushing from the Rock before me,
Lo! A spring of joy I see.

All the way my Savior leads me
O the fullness of His love!
Perfect rest to me is promised
In my Father’s house above.
When my spirit, clothed immortal,
Wings its flight to realms of day
This my song through endless ages—
Jesus led me all the way;
This my song through endless ages—
Jesus led me all the way.

Oh, how oft amid our labor
Do we think of what will be
When the boat shall drop its anchor
In the haven o’er the sea!
And our hearts, with joy expanding,
From our trials look away,
When we all shall meet together,
At the breaking of the day!

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At the breaking of the day,
When we anchor on the shore,
At the breaking of the day,
When the storms of life are o’er,
When our sorrow and our sighing,
Like a dream will pass away,
When we all shall meet together,
At the breaking of the day!

Oh, how oft amid the conflict
And the battle raging high,
With a faith as clear as noonday
We behold the vict’ry nigh,
And we know that with the righteous
We shall stand in bright array,
When we all shall meet together,
At the breaking of the day!

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Endless praise to our Redeemer
For His all atoning love,
That prepares for us a mansion
And a crown of life above,
Where our eyes shall see the beauty
Of the flow’rs that ne’er decay,
When we all shall meet together,
At the breaking of the day!

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Deem not that they are blest alone
Whose days a peaceful tenor keep;
Th’anointed Son of God makes known
A blessing for the eyes that weep.

The light of smiles shall fill again
The lids that overflow with tears;
And weary hours of woe and pain
Are promises of happier years.

There is a day of sunny rest
For every dark and troubled night;
And grief shall bide an evening guest,
But joy shall come with early light.

Nor let the good man’s trust depart,
Though life its common gifts deny,
Though with a pierced and broken heart,
And spurned of men, he goes to die.

For God has marked each sorrowing day,
And numbered every secret tear;
And heaven’s long age of bliss shall pay
For all His children suffer here.

Steer our bark away to the homeland,
Spread the sails of hope o’er the sea;
Think of all the friends that await us,
When anchored safely there we shall be.

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Gathering out of tears into sunshine,
Gathering out of labor into rest;
Hear the ransomed throng shouting forth their joy in song,
Gathering to the mansions of the blest.

Steer our bark away to the homeland,
On without a fear let us go;
When the port of peace we are nearing,
The blessèd harbor lights we shall know.

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Bright and fair the hills of the homeland,
Clad in all the bloom of the spring;
There to Him Who loved and redeemed us,
Our joyful, joyful praise we will sing.

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Soft the winds that blow from the homeland,
Sweet the morn that breaks on the shore;
Soon we’ll meet again our beloved ones,
Where sorrow’s plaintive moan comes no more.

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I love to sing of Heav’n,
Where white robed angels are;
Where many a friend is gathered safe
From fear, and toil, and care.

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There’ll be no sorrow there,
There’ll be no sorrow there;
In Heav’n above, where all is love,
There’ll be no sorrow there.

I love to think of Heav’n,
Where my Redeemer reigns;
Where rapturous songs of triumph rise,
In endless, joyous strains.

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I love to think of Heav’n,
That promised land so fair;
Oh, how my raptured spirit longs
To be forever there.

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Seated one day at the organ,
I was weary and ill at ease,
And my fingers wandered idly
Over the noisy keys;
I know not what I was playing,
Or what I was dreaming then,
But I struck one chord of music,
Like the sound of a great Amen,
Like the sound of a great Amen.

It flooded the crimson twilight,
Like the close of an angel’s psalm,
And it lay on my fevered spirit,
With a touch of infinite calm,
It quieted pain and sorrow,
Like love overcoming strife,
It seemed the harmonious echo
From our discordant life,
It linked all the perplexed meanings
Into one perfect peace,
And trembled away into silence,
As if it were loth to cease;
I have sought but I seek it vainly,
That one lost chord divine,
Which came from the soul of the organ,
And entered into mine.

It may be that death’s bright angel
Will speak in that chord again;
It may be that only in Heav’n
I shall hear that great Amen.
It may be that death’s bright angel
Will speak in that chord again;
It may be that only in Heav’n
I shall hear that great Amen.

Birds are rejoicing,
O’er hill and dell;
Hushed is thy voicing,
Sweeter that fell.
Friend of our happy days,
Brother of prayer and praise,
Thine own sweet music says,
Loved one, farewell!

Thou hast ascended,
Where angels dwell;
Where, earth songs ended,
Heav’n’s anthems swell.
Safe, all the saints among,
Blest with the praising throng,
Singing the new made songs,
Loved one, farewell!

Salvation’s story
Then thou wilt tell;
Triumphs of glory,
Thy voice shall swell.
Rest thou, oh, friend so dear,
Thy precious Savior near,
Where God shall wipe each tear,
Loved one, farewell!

Safe from thee turning,
Grief’s tones will knell;
Hard, hard the learning,
God doeth well!
Till, be it soon or late,
Up, at the pearly gate,
We meet, oh watch and wait,
Loved one, farewell!

There’ll be no night in Heav’n,
In that blest world above;
No anxious toil, no weary hours;
For labor there is love.

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There’ll be no sorrow there,
There’ll be no sorrow there,
In Heav’n above, where all is love,
There’ll be no sorrow there.

There’ll be no grief in Heav’n,
For life is one glad day,
And tears are those of former things
Which all have passed way.

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There’ll be no sin in Heav’n;
Behold that blessèd throng,
All holy in their spotless robes,
All holy in their song.

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When gathering clouds around I view,
And days are dark, and friends are few,
On Him I lean, who not in vain
Experienced every human pain;
He sees my wants, allays my fears,
And counts and treasures all my tears.

If aught should tempt my soul to stray
From heavenly wisdom’s narrow way,
To fly the good I would pursue,
Or do the sin I would not do,
Still He, who felt temptation’s power,
Shall guard me in that dangerous hour.

If wounded love my bosom swell,
Deceived by those I prized too well,
He shall His pitying aid bestow,
Who felt on earth severer woe,
At once betrayed, denied, or fled,
By those who shared His daily bread.

If vexing thoughts within me rise
And, sore dismayed, my spirit dies,
Still He, who once vouchsafed to bear
The sickening anguish of despair,
Shall sweetly soothe, shall gently dry,
The throbbing heart, the streaming eye.

When, sorrowing, o’er some stone I bend,
Which covers what was once a friend,
And from his voice, his hand, his smile,
Divides me for a little while,
Thou, Savior, mark’st the tears I shed,
For Thou didst weep o’er Lazarus dead.

And O, when I have safely past,
Through every conflict but the last;
Still, still unchanging, watch beside
My painful bed, for Thou hast died;
Then point to realms of cloudless day,
And wipe the latest tear way.