1 Behold a host, arrayed in white,
Like thousand snow-clad mountains bright;
With palms they stand. Who is this band
Before the throne of light?
These are the saints of glorious fame,
Who from the great affliction came
And in the flood Of Jesus' blood
Are cleansed from guilt and blame.
Now gathered in the holy place,
Their voices they in worship raise.
Their anthems swell Where God does dwell
Mid angels' songs of praise.
2 Despised and scorned, they sojourned here;
But now, how glorious they appear!
Those martyrs stand, A priestly band,
God's throne forever near.
So oft in troubled days gone by,
In anguish they would weep and sigh;
At home above The God of love
Fore'er their tears shall dry.
They now enjoy the Sabbath rest,
The heav'nly banquet of the blest;
The Lamb, their Lord, At festive board
Himself is host and guest.