THE CONSUMMATION.
O Saviour, whose surpassing grace
Exceeds the guilt thy griefs atoned,
The praises of a ransomed race
Be thine, in highest heaven enthroned.
The Father’s everlasting love
Thy blessed life and death declare;
And still, though crowned with bliss above,
Our deepest sorrows thou dost share.
O Jesus, merciful and kind,
The sad and sinful seek thy breast;
Our souls in thee their solace find,—
Our refuge thou, our only rest.
The goal is sure, O Guide divine!
Again the stars of morning sing;
All wills, all worlds, at last are thine,
O Christ, Creator, Saviour, King!
ALL SAINTS.
Ten thousand times ten thousand,—
Their shining ranks I see!
With robes of light resplendent,
And palms of victory!
The crowns they wear are golden,
And gemmed with jewels rare,—
Fair guerdon of the glory
They with their Saviour share.
Their home—the holy city,
Within whose ageless walls
No shade of sin, or sickness,
Or sorrow, ever falls;
For He is ever with them,
The Lamb, their life, their light,—
The joy of all the ransomed,
The saints’ supreme delight.