Henry Alford Archive

1 Ten thousand times ten thousand, In sparkling raiment bright, The armies of the ransomed saints Throng up the steeps of light. ‘Tis finished, all is finished, Their fight with death and sin. Fling open wide the golden gates, And let the victors …

1 Come, ye thankful people, come, Raise the song of harvest home; All is safely gathered in, Ere the winter storms begin. God our Maker doth provide For our wants to be supplied; Come to God’s own temple, come; Raise the song of …