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All Saint's Day

Lo, a great multitude which no man could number, of all nations, and kindreds and people, and tongues, stood before the throne and before the Lamb, clothed with white robes, and palms in their hands; and cried with a loud voice, saying, Salvation to our God which sitteth upon the throne and unto the Lamb.

From the Epistle. [Rev. 7:9-10]


Wer sind die vor Gottes Throne

Schenk. d. 1727.

trans. by Catherine Winkworth, 1855

Who are those before God's throne,

What the crownèd host I see?

As the sky with stars thick-strown

Is their shining company:

Hallelujahs, hark, they sing,

Solemn praise to God they bring.

Who are those that in their hands

Bear aloft the conqueror's palm,

As one o'er his foeman stands,

Fallen beneath his mighty arm?

What the war and what the strife,

Whence came such victorious life?

Who are those arrayed in light,

Clothed in righteousness divine,

Wearing robes most pure and white,

That unstained shall ever shine,

That can nevermore decay;

Whence came all this bright array?


They are those who, strong in faith,

Battled for the mighty God;

Conquerors o'er the world and death,

Following not Sin's crowded road;

Through the Lamb who once was slain,

Did they such high victory gain.

They are those who much have borne,

Trial, sorrow, pain, and care,

Who have wrestled night and morn

With the mighty God in prayer;

Now their strife hath found its close,

God hath turned away their woes.

They are branches of that Stem,

Who hath our Salvation been,

In the blood He shed for them,

Have they made their raiment clean;

Hence they wear such radiant dress,

Clad in spotless holiness.

They are those who hourly here

Served as priests before their Lord,

Offering up with gladsome cheer

Soul and body at His word.

Now within the Holy Place,

They behold Him face to face.

As the harts at noonday pant

For the river fresh and clear,

Did they ofttimes long and faint

For the Living Fountain here.

Now their thirst is quenched, they dwell

With the Lord they loved so well.


Thitherwards I stretch my hands;

O Lord Jesus, day by day,

In Thy house in these strange lands,

Compassed round with foes, I pray,

Let me sink not in the war,

Drive for me my foes afar.

Cast my lot in earth and heaven

With Thy saints made like to Thee,

Let my bonds be also riven,

Make Thy child who loves Thee free;

Near the throne where Thou dost shine,

May a place at last be mine!

Ah! that bliss can ne'er be told,

When with all that army bright,

Thee, my Sun, I shall behold,

Shining star-like, with Thy light.

Amen! Thanks be brought to Thee,

Praise through all eternity.

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