Behold A Host, Arrayed In WhiteBehold a host, arrayed in white,
Like thousand snow-clad mountains bright;
With palms they stand. Who is this band
Before the throne of light?
These are the saints of glorious fame,
Who from the great affliction came
And in the flood Of Jesus' blood
Are cleansed from guilt and blame.
Now gathered in the holy place,
Their voices they in worship raise.
Their anthems swell Where God does dwell
Mid angels' songs of praise.
Despised and scorned, they sojourned here;
But now, how glorious they appear!
Those martyrs stand, A priestly band,
God's throne forever near.
So oft in troubled days gone by,
In anguish they would weep and sigh;
At home above The God of love
Fore'er their tears shall dry.
They now enjoy the Sabbath rest,
The heav'nly banquet of the blest;
The Lamb, their Lord, At festive board
Himself is host and guest.
O blessed saints, now take your rest;
A thousand times you will be blessed
For keeping faith Firm unto death
And scorning worldly trust.
For now you live at home with God;
You toiled and sowed the Word abroad.
Rejoice and bring Your fruits and sing
Before the throne of God.
The myriad angels raise the song;
O saints, sing with that happy throng!
Lift up one voice; Let heav'n rejoice
In our Redeemer's song.
