Ye holy angels bright,
Who stand before God's throne
And dwell in glorious light,
Praise ye the Lord each one.
Assist our song, or else the theme
Too high doth seem for mortal tongue.

Ye blessèd souls at rest,
That see your Savior's face,
Whose glory, e'en the least,
Is far above our grace.
God's praises sound, as in His sight
With sweet delight you do abound.

Ye saints, who toil below,
Adore your heavenly King,
And onward as ye go
Some joyful anthem sing;
Take what He gives and praise Him still,
Through good or ill, who ever lives!

All nations of the earth,
Extol the world's great King:
With melody and mirth
His glorious praises sing,
For He still reigns, and will bring low
The proudest foe that Him disdains.

Sing forth Jehovah's praise,
Ye saints, that on Him call!
Him magnify always
His holy churches all!
In Him rejoice and there proclaim
His holy Name with sounding voice.

My soul, bear thou thy part,
Triumph in God above,
And with a well tuned heart
Sing thou the songs of love.
And all my days let no distress
Nor fears suppress His joyful praise.

Away, distrustful care!
I have Thy promise, Lord:
To banish all despair,
I have Thine oath and Word:
And therefore I shall see Thy face
And there Thy grace shall magnify.

With Thy triumphant flock
Then I shall numbered be;
Built on th'eternal Rock,
His glory shall we see.
The heav'ns so high
With praise shall ring
And all shall sing in harmony.