Lo, round the throne, a glorious band

Lo, round the throne, a glorious band,

the saints in countless myriads stand,

of every tongue redeemed to God,

arrayed in garments washed in blood.

Through tribulation great they came;

they bore the cross, despised the shame;

from all their labours now they rest,

in God's eternal glory blest.

They see their Saviour face to face,

and sing the triumphs of his grace;

him day and night they ceaseless praise,

to him the loud thanksgiving raise:

'Worthy the Lamb, for sinners slain,

through endless years to live and reign;

thou hast redeemed us by thy blood,

and made us kings and priests to God.'

O may we tread the sacred road

that saints and holy martyrs trod;

wage to the end the glorious strife,

and win, like them, a crown of life.