Hymn 41

 The same; or, The martyrs glorified.
"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.

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