Ransom'd souls in every station,
Join to praise your glorious King;
We who taste a full salvation
Should the Saviour's honours sing.
Hallelujah,
Glory be to Christ our King —

Perfect praise we soon shall render
On the blissful plains above,
When in all his dazzling splendour
We behold the God of Love:
To his glory,
Every passion then will move.

But, since none in heav'n denies him
All the honours he can claim;
Here on earth, where men despise him,
Let us glory in his name:
'Tis our honour
In his cause to suffer shame.

While the great and wise reject him,
Fond of outward pomp and shew;
Oh, let none of us neglect him
In his members mean and low;
But, as princes,
Treat the poorest saints we know.

Think (at the last trumpet's sounding,
When the creatures all appear,
Thirst on his white throne surrounding),
What delight 'twill be to hear,
Him confessing
Us, as those that serv'd him here!

" Come, ye bless'd, whom tribulation,
" Sin, and Satan, could not move
" From embracing my salvation;
" Come, enjoy my perfect love:
" Live for ever,
" With me on my throne above. "

This to hear, before the Father
And the bright angelic train,
When all worlds are met together,
Is the glory we would gain:
This is honour,
Crowns, compar'd with this, are vain.