If there be that skills to reck­on
All the num­ber of the blest,
He, per­chance, can weigh the glad­ness
Of the ev­er­last­ing rest
Which, their earth­ly war­fare fin­ished,
They through suf­fer­ing have pos­sessed.

Through the vale of la­men­ta­tion
Happily and safe­ly past,
Now the years of their af­flict­ion
In their me­mo­ry they re­cast,
And the end of all per­fec­tion
They can con­tem­plate at last.

For they see their cru­el tempt­er
Suffering tor­ments ev­er­more;
To the Sav­ior that re­deemed them
Those re­deemed ones prais­es pour;
And the Mon­arch that re­wards them
Those re­ward­ed saints adore.

In a glass through types and rid­dles
Dwelling here, we see alone;
Then se­rene­ly, pure­ly, clear­ly,
We shall know as we are known,
Fixing our en­light­ened vi­sion
On the glo­ry of the throne.

There the Tri­ni­ty of Per­sons
Unbeclouded shall we see;
There the Uni­ty of Es­sence
Perfectly re­vealed shall be;
While we hail the Three­fold God­head
And the sim­ple Uni­ty.

Wherefore, man, take heart and cour­age,
Whatsoe’er thy pre­sent pain;
Such un­told re­ward through suf­fer­ing
Thou may’st mer­it to at­tain;
And for ev­er in His glo­ry
With the Light of light to reign.

Laud and hon­or to the Fa­ther;
Laud and hon­or to the Son;
Laud and hon­or to the Spir­it;
Ever Three, and ev­er One;
Consubstantial, co-eter­nal,
While un­end­ing ages run.