The Lord, the so­ve­reign king,
Hath fixed His throne on high;
O’er all the hea­ven­ly world He rules,
And all be­neath the sky.

Ye an­gels, great in might,
And swift to do His will,
Bless ye the Lord, whose voice ye hear,
Whose plea­sure ye ful­fill.

Let the bright hosts who wait
The or­ders of their king,
And guard His church­es when they pray,
Join in the praise they sing.

While all His won­drous works
Through His vast king­dom show
Their mak­er’s glo­ry, thou, my soul,
Shalt sing His grac­es, too.