Our Father’s home eternal,
O Christ, thou dost prepare
With many diverse mansions,
And each one passing fair,
They are the victors’ guerdon,
Who through the hard-worn fight
Have followed in thy footsteps,
And reign with thee in light.

Amidst the happy number
The Virgins’ crown and Queen,
The ever-Virgin Mother,
Is first and foremost seen;
The Patriarchs in triumph
Thy praises nobly sing
The prophets of thy wisdom
Adore the nations' King.

Th' Apostles reign in glory,
The martyrs joy in thee,
The Virgins and Confessors
Thy shining brightness see,
And ev'ry patient suff’rer,
Who sorrow dared contemn,
For each especial anguish
Hath one especial gem.

The holy men and women,
Their earthly struggle o’er,
With joy put off the armour
That they shall need no more,
For these and all that battled
Beneath their monarch's eyes,
the harder was the conflict,
the brighter is the prize.

And ev’ry faithful servant,
Made perfect in thy grace,
Hath each his fitting station
‘Mid those that see thy face.
The bondsman and the noble,
the peasant and the king,
All gird one glorious Monarch
In one eternal ring.