Come on, my part­ners in dis­tress,
My com­rades through the wil­der­ness,
Who still your bo­dies feel;
A while for­get your griefs and fears,
And look be­yond the vale of tears,
To that ce­les­ti­al hill.

Beyond the bounds of time and space,
Look for­ward to that hap­py place,
The saints’ se­cure abode;
On faith’s strong ea­gle pin­ions rise,
And force your pas­sage to the skies,
And scale the mount of God.

See, where the Lamb in glo­ry stands,
Encircled with His ra­di­ant bands,
And join th’an­gel­ic pow­ers.
For all that height of glo­ri­ous bliss,
Our ev­er­last­ing por­tion is,
And all that Hea­ven is ours.

Who suf­fer with our mas­ter here,
We shall be­fore His face ap­pear
And by His side sit down:
To pa­tient faith the prize is sure,
And all, that to the end en­dure
The cross, shall wear the crown.

Thrice-bless­èd, bliss-in­spir­ing hope!
It lifts the faint­ing spir­its up,
It brings to life the dead:
Our con­flicts here shall soon be past,
And you and I as­cend at last,
Triumphant with our Head.

That great mys­te­ri­ous Dei­ty
We soon with op­en face shall see:
The bea­ti­fic sight
Shall fill the hea­ven­ly courts with praise,
And wide dif­fuse the gold­en blaze
Of ev­er­last­ing light.

The Fa­ther shin­ing on His throne,
The glo­ri­ous co-eter­nal Son,
The Spir­it one and se­ven,
Conspire our rap­ture to com­plete;
And lo! we fall before His feet,
And si­lence height­ens Hea­ven.

In hope of that ec­sta­tic pause,
Jesus, we now sustain Thy cross,
And at Thy foot­stool fall,
Till Thou our hid­den life re­veal,
Till Thou our ra­vished spir­its fill,
And God is all in all.