A Cloud of Witnesses

by Frank Jones


Give me the wings of faith to rise
     Within the veil, and see
The saints above, how great their joys,
     How bright their glories be.

Once they were mourning here below
     And wet their couch with tears;
They wrestled hard, as we do now,
     With sins, and doubts, and fears.

I ask them whence their victory came,
     They, with united breath,
Ascribe their conquest to the Lamb,
     Their triumph to His death.

They mark’d the footsteps that He trod
     (His zeal inspired their breast;)
And, following their incarnate God,
     Possess the promised rest.

Our glorious Leader claims our praise
     For His own pattern given;
While the long cloud of witnesses
     Shows the same path to heaven.
— Isaac Watts