On the Death of Thomas Beard, Hymn 7

Rejoice, ye happy saints,
Who only Jesus know,
Whom vice and folly paints
As monsters here below,
Rejoice in the Divine applause,
The honour from above,
And glory in your Master's cross,
And triumph in His love.
Ye wise and pious few,
Whose names the world blaspheme.
They therefore know not you
Because they know not Him:
Strangers, approved of God alone,
To all their wrongs submit,
And let them spurn, and tread you down
As clay beneath their feet.
Tis thus ye learn to be
True followers of the Lamb,
Who died upon the tree,
That ye might do the same;
With humble thankfulness receive
The scandal of the cross,
The grace not only to believe,
But suffer for His cause.

By fools accounted mad,
Of His reproach possess'd,
He bids your hearts be glad,
Your Lord declares you blest;
Hymns for the Persecuted.
Exult in your despised estate,
Enjoy the token given,
For O! beyond conception great
Is your reward in heaven.