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C. M.

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

"These glorious minds, how brigh 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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