Around the throne of God a band
Of bright and glo­ri­ous an­gels stand;
Sweet harps with­in their hands they hold,
And on their heads are crowns of gold.

Some wait around Him rea­dy still
To sing His praise and do His will,
And some, when He com­mands them, go
To guard His ser­vants here be­low.

Lord, give Thine an­gels ev­ery day
Command to guard us on our way,
And bid them ev­ery ev­en­ing keep
Their watch around us while we sleep.

So shall no wick­ed thing draw near
To do us harm or cause us fear;
And we shall dwell, when life is past,
With an­gels round Thy throne at last.