Oh! what, if we are Christ’s,
Is earth­ly shame or loss?
Bright shall the crown of glo­ry be
When we have borne the cross.

Keen was the tri­al once,
Bitter the cup of woe,
When mar­tyred saints, bap­tized in blood,
Christ’s suf­fer­ings shared be­low:

Bright is their glo­ry now,
Boundless their joy ab­ove,
Where, on the bo­som of their God,
They rest in per­fect love.

Lord, may that grace be ours,
Like them in faith to bear
All that of sor­row, grief or pain
May be our por­tion here.

Enough if Thou at last
The word of bless­ing give,
And let us rest be­neath Thy feet,
Where saints and an­gels live.

All glo­ry, Lord, to Thee,
Whom Heav’n and earth adore;
To Fa­ther, Son, and Ho­ly Ghost,
One God for­ev­er­more.