1. Behold an Israelite indeed,
In whom no guile is found,
For such was blest Nathanael’s meed,
Ere yet with glory crowned!
Now he who once, in bending awe,
Beneath the fig-tree prayed,
Séeth greater things than then he saw,
In highest heaven displayed.
2. O when did he that vision bright
Of wondrous glory scan;
Of angels, to and fro, in flight
Upon the Son of Man?
Long waiting for the sight, perchance,
When came his master’s call,
The Martyr, as with Stephen’s glance,
Looked up, and saw it all!
3. Now Him who made the Apostles wise,
Who made His weak ones strong,
He gazes on with raptured eyes,
Amidst the Martyr throne:
To Him the Father, praise we sing,
To Him the Son be laud;
To Him the Spirit, honour bring,
The One Eternal God!