Holy, ho­ly, ho­ly Lord
God of Hosts! When Heav’n and earth,
Out of dark­ness, at Thy Word,
Issued in­to glo­ri­ous birth,
All Thy works be­fore Thee stood,
And Thine eye be­held them good,
While they sang with sweet ac­cord,
Holy, ho­ly, ho­ly, Lord!

Holy, ho­ly, ho­ly! Thee
One Je­ho­vah ev­er­more,
Father, Son, and Spir­it, we
Dust and ash­es, would ad­ore;
Lightly by the world es­teemed,
From that world by Thee re­deemed,
Sing we here with glad ac­cord,
Holy, ho­ly, ho­ly Lord!

Holy, ho­ly, ho­ly! All
Heaven’s tri­um­phant choirs shall sing
When the ran­somed na­tions fall
At the foot­stool of their king:
Then shall saints and se­ra­phim,
Hearts and voic­es, swell one hymn,
Round the throne with full ac­cord,
Holy, ho­ly, ho­ly Lord!