ye holy angels bright

Ye holy angels bright,

Who wait at God's right hand,

Or through the realms of light

Fly at your Lord's command,

Assist our song,

Or else the theme too high

Doth seem for mortal tongue.




Ye blessèd souls at rest,

Who see your Saviour's face,

Whose glory, e'en the least

Is far above our grace,

God's praises sound,

As in His sight

With sweet delight

Ye 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 and ill,

Who ever lives.




My soul, bear thou thy part,

Triumph in God above,

And with a well-tuned heart

Sing thou the songs of love.

Let all thy days

Till life shall end,

Whate'er He send,

Be filled with praise.