Palms of glo­ry, rai­ment bright,
Crowns that ne­ver fade away,
Gird and deck the saints in light,
Priests, and kings, and con­quer­ors they.

Yet the conquerors bring their palms
To the Lamb amidst the throne,
And pro­claim in joy­ful psalms
Victory through His cross alone.

Kings for harps their crowns re­sign,
Crying, as they strike the chords,
Take the king­dom, it is Thine,
King of kings, and Lord of lords.

Round the al­tar priests con­fess,
If their robes are white as snow,
’Twas the Sav­ior’s right­eous­ness
And His blood that made them so.

Who were these? On earth they dwelt,
Sinners once of Ad­am’s race,
Guilt and fear and suf­fer­ing felt,
But were saved by so­ve­reign grace.

They were mor­tal too like us;
O, when we like them shall die,
May our souls trans­lat­ed thus
Triumph, reign, and shine on high.