Christopher Wordsworth (1807–1885)

(All Saints’ Day)

HARK the sound of holy voices, chanting at the crystal sea,

Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Lord, to Thee;

Multitudes which none can number, like the stars in glory stand,

Cloth’d in white apparel, holding palms of victory in their hand.

Patriarch, and holy Prophet, who prepar’d the way for Christ;

King, Apostle, Saint, and Martyr, Confessor, Evangelist,

Saintly Maiden, godly Matron, Widows who have watch’d to prayer,

Join’d in holy concert singing to the Lord of all, are there.

They have come from tribulation, and have wash’d their robes in blood,

Wash’d them in the blood of Jesus; tried they were, and firm they stood:

Mock’d, imprison’d, ston’d, tormented, sawn asunder, slain with sword,

They have conquer’d Death and Satan, by the might of Christ the Lord.

Marching with Thy Cross their banner, they have triumph’d following,

Thee the Captain of Salvation, Thee their Saviour and their King;

Gladly, Lord, with Thee they suffer’d; gladly, Lord, with Thee they died;

And, by Death, to Life immortal they were born, and glorified.

Now they reign in heavenly glory, now they walk in golden light,

Now they drink, as from a river, holy bliss and infinite;

Love and Peace they taste for ever; and all Truth and Knowledge see

In the beatific vision of the Blessèd Trinity.

God of God, the One-begotten, Light of Light, Emmanuel,

In Whose Body, join’d together, all the Saints for ever dwell;

Pour upon us of Thy fulness, that we may for evermore

God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Ghost adore.