’Mid the splen­dors of the glo­ry,
Which we hope ere long to share;
Christ our head, and we His mem­bers,
Shall ap­pear di­vin­ely fair.
Oh, how won­drous!
When we meet Him in the air!

From the date­less, time­less pe­ri­ods,
He has loved us with­out cause;
And for all His blood-bought my­ri­ads,
His is love that knows no pause.
Matchless Lov­er!
Changeless as the eter­nal laws!

Oh what gifts shall yet be grant­ed,
Palms, and crowns, and robes of white,
When the hope for which we pant­ed,
Bursts up­on our glad­dened sight,
And our Sav­ior
Makes us glo­ri­ous through His might.

Bright the pros­pect soon that greets us
Of that longed-for nup­ti­al day,
When our hea­ven­ly Bride­groom meets us
On His king­ly, con­quer­ing way;
In the glo­ry,
Bride and Bride­groom reign for aye!