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.