Blessed are their eyes that see Him,
Him the holy and the true;
Gathered round Him, He among them,
His despised, rejected few;
He who hath the key of David,
God of resurrection power;
He hath opened heaven before them,
Shut them in for evermore.
Feeblest worms, yet dear to Jesus,
Weary hearts that wait for Him,
Eyes that look upon the glory,
Till all else is dark and dim;
Midst the wreck, the desolation,
Where the glorious city stood,
Called to raise the lonely altar,
One last witness for their God.
He the golden door has opened
Of His temple holiest place,
Midst these latter days of darkness
Called them in to see His face:
None can shut where He has opened,
None that “little strength” withstand,
Which He gave amid their weakness,
By the touch of His right hand.
Precious to the heart of Jesus,
Love that keeps the “Word” he spake,
Knowing somewhat of the sweetness
Of rejection for His sake;
Yet so little of the glory
Of His scorn, and cross, and shame,
That His love can witness only,
“Thou hast not denied My name.”
He their names will tell in triumph,
Rest not till the scorners own
All the love wherewith He loved them,
Till they see them on His throne.
He, for that bright day, is waiting,
They are waiting till He come;
Ere the judgment thunder pealeth,
He will take them to His home.
He, their Lord, is coming quickly-
Brethren, yet awhile hold fast;
In His God's eternal temple
They as pillars stand at last.
Here, to be cast out, rejected,
Here to bear the brand of shame;
There, go out no more forever,
Bear in light His God's own name.
He will write that name upon them,
His God evermore their own,
And the name of His bright city,
Of the bride who shares His throne;
And His own new name of triumph
Then shall shine upon their brow-
Shall they not rejoice in bearing
His reproach, rejection now?