1 Palms of Glory, raiment bright,
Crowns that never fade away,
Gird and deck the saints in light;
Priests, and kings, and conquerors, they.

2 Yet the conquerors bring their palms
To the Lamb amidst the throne,
And proclaim in joyful psalms,
Victory through His cross alone.

3 Kings for harps their crowns resign,
Crying, as they strike the chords--
"Take the kingdom; it is Thine,
King of kings, and Lord of Lords."

4 Round the altar, priests confess,
If their robes are white as snow,
'Twas the Saviour's righteousness,
And His blood, that made them so.