Our Fa­ther’s home eter­nal,
O Christ, Thou dost pre­pare
With many di­vers man­sions,
And each one pass­ing fair;
They are the vic­tors’ guer­don,
Who, through the hard-won fight,
Have fol­lowed in Thy foot­steps,
And reign with Thee in light.

Amidst the hap­py num­ber
The vir­gins’ crown and queen,
The ev­er-vir­gin mo­ther
Is first and fore­most seen;
The pa­tri­archs in their tri­umph
Thy prais­es nob­ly sing;
The pro­phets of Thy wis­dom
Adore the na­tions’ king.

Th’apostles reign in glo­ry,
The mar­tyrs joy in Thee;
The vir­gins and con­fess­ors
Thy shin­ing bright­ness see;
And ev­ery pa­tient suf­fer­er,
Who sor­row dared con­temn,
For each es­pe­cial ang­uish
Hath one es­pe­cial gem.

The ho­ly men and wo­men,
Their earth­ly strug­gle o’er,
With joy put off the ar­mor
That they shall need no more;
For these, and all that bat­tled
Beneath their mon­arch’s eyes,
The hard­er was the con­flict,
The bright­er is the prize.

And ev­ery faith­ful ser­vant
Made per­fect in Thy grace,
Hath each his fit­ting sta­tion
’Mid those that see Thy face;
The bonds­man and the no­ble,
The pea­sant and the king,
All gird one glo­ri­ous mon­arch
In one eter­nal ring.