O God of glo­ry! when with eye up­lift­ed,
Eye of the soul in vi­sioned won­der clear;
And when by Thine eter­nal Spir­it gift­ed,
What deep re­veal­ings
To the soul ap­pear!

Nature re­cedes; and in th’ex­panse eter­nal,
Spreading and op­en­ing to my rap­tured sight,
I see the hosts of God, the heights su­per­nal,
The Church tri­umph­ant
Crowned in Heav’n’s own light,

Ah! there are they who, once among the low­ly,
Erst trod the paths of pa­tient vir­tue here;
And there are they who, in Thy pre­sence ho­ly,
Trembled for sin,
But knew no oth­er fear.

Prophets, re­form­ers—they, who God rev­er­ing,
Battled with hoa­ry wrong and an­cient might;
Behold them now in tri­umph re­ap­pear­ing
On all the hills of
God, in glo­ry bright!

In deep­en­ing vi­sion, flames a light be­fore them:
See a long train of mar­tyrs rise to view;
And lo! a cen­tral fig­ure bend­ing o’er them,
The dear Re­deem­er
Crowning them anew.