Den store, hvide Flok vi se (Carl Nielsen)

Danish text

Den store, hvide Flok vi se,
som tusind Bjærge fuld af Sne,
med Skov omkring
af Palmesving
for Tronen. Hvo er de?
Det er den Helteskare, som
af hin, den store, Trængsel kom
og har sig toed
i Lammets Blod
til Himlens Helligdom,
dér holder de nu Kirkegang
med uophørlig Jubelklang
i høje Kor,
hvor Gud han bor
blandt alle Engles Sang.

Her gik de under stor Foragt!
Men se dem nu i deres Pragt
for Tronen staa
med Kroner paa,
i Himlens Præstedragt!
Sandt er det, i saa mangen Nød
tit Taarestrøm paa Kinder flød;
men Gud har dem,
straks de kom hjem,
aftørret paa sit Skød.
Nu holder de, og har til bedst
hos ham en evig Løvsalsfest;
og Lammet selv,
ved Livets Elv,
er baade Vært og Gæst.

Til Lykke, Kæmpe-Samling, ja
o, tusind Fold til Lykke da,
at du var her
saa tro især
og slap saa vel herfra!
Du har foragtet Verdens Trøst,
saa lev nu evig vel og høst,
hvad du har saa’t
med Suk og Graad,
i tusind Englelyst!
Ophøj din Røst, slaa Palme-Takt,
og sjung af Himmelkraft og Magt:
Pris være dig
evindelig,
vor Gud og Lammet sagt!

English translation

Behold a host, arrayed in white,
Like thousand snow clad mountains bright,
With palms they stand. Who is this band
Before the throne of light?
Lo, these are they of glorious fame
Who from the great affliction came
And in the flood of Jesus' blood
Are cleansed from guilt and blame.
Now gathered in the holy place
Their voices they in worship raise,
Their anthems swell where God doth dwell,
Mid angels' song of praise.

Despised and scorned, they sojourned here;
But now, how glorious they appear!
Those martyrs stand a priestly band,
God's throne forever near.
So oft, in troubled days gone by,
In anguish they would weep and sigh.
At home above the God of Love
For aye their tears shall dry.
They now enjoy their Sabbath rest,
The paschal banquet of the blest;
The Lamb, their Lord, at festal board
Himself is Host and Guest.

Then hail, ye mighty legions, yea,
All hail! Now safe and blest for aye,
And praise the Lord, Who with His Word
Sustained you on the way.
Ye did the joys of earth disdain,
Ye toiled and sowed in tears and pain.
Farewell, now bring your sheaves and sing
Salvation's glad refrain.
Swing high your palms, lift up your song,
Yea, make it myriad voices strong.
Eternally shall praise to Thee,
God, and the Lamb belong.

(Translation copied from Blue Letter Bible, where it is described as a composite work, with, as far as this editor can ascertain, no copyright specified.)