Within the vail, and see
The saints above, how great their joys,
How bright their glories be.
Many are the friends who are waiting to-day,
Happy on the golden strand ;
Many are the voices calling us away
To join their glorious band —
Calling us away, calling us away,
Calling to the better land.
2 Once they were mourners here below,
And poured out cries and tears ;
They wrestled hard, as we do now,
With sins, and doubts, and fears.
3 I ask them whence their victory came :
They, with united breath,
Ascribe their conquest to the Lamb,
Their triumph to His death.