Oh how hap­py are they
In their white robes ar­rayed!
Round the throne of dear Je­sus they stand;
From all na­tions, and kin­dreds,
And peo­ples, and tongues,
They have gone to Im­ma­nu­el’s Land.
A cho­rus of praise to Je­sus they raise,
Round the throne in Im­ma­nu­el’s Land.

From the east and the west,
From the north and the south,
From the isles of the sea—a blest band—
Thro’ the dear Fa­ther’s love,
And the dear Sav­ior’s blood,
They are safe in Im­ma­nu­el’s Land.
A cho­rus of praise to Je­sus they raise,
Round the throne in Im­ma­nu­el’s Land.

They have gone from temp­ta­tion,
From sor­row and sin,
And for­ev­er in glo­ry they stand;
And their robes they have washed
In the blood of the Lamb,
So are safe in Im­ma­nu­el’s Land.
A cho­rus of praise to Je­sus they raise,
Round the throne in Im­ma­nu­el’s Land.

And the beau­ti­ful gates of the Ci­ty of Light,
Will be op­ened by Je­sus’ command,
Unto you and to me, if we give Him our love,
And we’ll en­ter Im­ma­nu­el’s Land.
A cho­rus of praise to Je­sus we’ll raise,
Round the throne in Im­ma­nu­el’s Land.