From your blissful thrones of glory,
Look on us, O God's elect,
Tell us what repays your combats,
Tell us what we may expect.
Our delight no one can utter,
Eye has not seen, ear not heard,
None on earth can feel the pleasure
That for us God has reserved."

Ye bright martyr throng, whose courage
Never quailed amid the strife;
What is now to be your portion
After giving up your life?
"We with waving palms all standing
And with banners bright unfurled,
Sing for ever alleluia
to the saviour of the world."

Ye, whose unabated penance
Made the desert so renowned,
Hermits, tell us, for your rigors
What delight ye now have found.
For the pleasures we relinquished
For our homes and friends below,
Joys delicious pour in torrents,
Fill our hearts and overflow.

Ye, the virgins who on earth were
Bound to an eternal spouse,
With what favours does he crown you,
Faithful to your three-told vows?
Happy brides in spotless garments,
close beside our Lord we throng;
where the Lamb goes, there we follow,
While we sing the unknown song.

As we gaze upon your glory,
Saints of God, in heav'n's own light,
Teach us how we too may Jon you,
How to win those crowns so bright.
Would you come where we have entered,
Fight with all your strength and pow'r?
Would you live the life eternal,
Die to self at ev'ry hour?"