Hymn 41
The same; or, The martyrs glorified.
Rev. 7:13ff.
"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
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