These glo­ri­ous minds, how bright they shine!
Whence all their white ar­ray?
How came they to the hap­py seats
Of ev­er­last­ing day?

From tor­tur­ing pains to end­less joys
On fie­ry wheels they rode,
And strange­ly washed their rai­ment white
In Je­sus’ dy­ing blood.

Now they ap­proach a spot­less God,
And bow be­fore His throne;
Their warb­ling harps and sacr­ed songs
Adore the Ho­ly One.

The un­veiled glo­ries of His face
Amongst His saints re­side,
While the rich trea­sure of His grace
Sees all their wants sup­plied.

Tormenting thirst shall leave their souls,
And hun­ger flee as fast;
The fruit of life’s im­mor­tal tree
Shall be their sweet re­past.

The Lamb shall lead His heav’n­ly flock
Where liv­ing fount­ains rise;
And love di­vine shall wipe away
The sor­rows of their eyes.