A Chosen People

The one hundred forty-four thousand go up
The rest of the saints remain
They said that they wouldn’t be here this time
But still they can’t complain

They won’t have to try to learn a new song
Or stand on the top of the mountain
But if they are faithful to die in the Lord
They’ll still get to drink from the fountain

They all washed their robes in the Blood of the Lamb
And made them as white as snow
Up out of the great tribulation they came
And now into heaven they go