27
Hungering still, they eat; and eating,
Still the sacred food require.
Lovely voices make a concert
Ever new and ever clear,
And in never-ending festal
Organs sooth the ravished ear;
Worthily their king they honour
Who obtained them victory's cheer.
Who shall see Heaven's Monarch present,
O! how blessed that happy soul,
And, beneath its throne of glory,
Watch the orbs of nature roll,
Sun, and Moon, and Stars, and Planets,
As they course around the pole.
Christ, Thy soldiers' palm of honour.
Unto this Thy city free
Lead me, when my warfare's girdle
I shall cast away from me,
A partaker in Thy bounty
With Thy blessed ones to be.
Grant me vigour, while I labour,
In the ceaseless battle pressed,
That Thou mayst, the conflict over,
Grant me everlasting rest,
And I may at length inherit
Thee my portion ever blessed.
