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Poem	Praise God, all his saints or, The saints judging the world. All ye that love the Lord, rejoice, And let your songs be new; Amidst the church with cheerful voice His later wonders show. The Jews, the people of his grace, Shall their Redeemer sing; And Gentile nations join the praise, While Zion owns her King. The Lord takes pleasure in the just, Whom sinners treat with scorn; The meek that lie despised in dust Salvation shall adorn. Saints should be joyful in their King, E'en on a dying bed; And like the souls in glory sing; For God shall raise the dead. Then his high praise shall fill their tongues Their hands shall wield the sword; And vengeance shall attend their songs, The vengeance of the Lord. When Christ the judgment-seat ascends, And bids the world appear, Thrones are prepared for all his friends Who humbly loved him here. Then shall they rule with iron rod Nations that dared rebel; And join the sentence of their God On tyrants doomed to hell. The royal sinners bound in chains New triumphs shall afford: Such honor for the saints remains; Praise ye, and love the Lord!
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