Who are these ar­rayed in white,
Brighter than the noon-day sun?
Foremost of the sons of light;
Nearest the eter­nal throne?
These are they that bore the cross,
Nobly for their Mas­ter stood;
Sufferers in His right­eous cause,
Followers of the dy­ing God.

Out of great dis­tress they came,
Washed their robes by faith be­low,
In the blood of yon­der Lamb,
Blood that wash­es white as snow:
Therefore are they next the throne,
Serve their mak­er day and night:
God re­sides among His own,
God doth in His saints de­light.

More than con­quer­ors at last,
Here they find their tri­als o’er;
They have all their suf­fer­ings past,
Hunger now and thirst no more:
No ex­cess­ive heat they feel
From the sun’s di­rect­er ray;
In a mild­er clime they dwell,
Region of eter­nal day.

He that on the throne doth reign,
Them the Lamb shall al­ways feed,
With the tree of life sus­tain,
To the liv­ing fount­ains lead;
He shall all their sor­rows chase,
All their wants at once re­move,
Wipe the tears from ev­ery face,
Fill up ev­ery soul with love.