Ye hea­ven­ly choir, as­sist me to sing,
And strike the soft lyre, and hon­or our king;
His migh­ty sal­va­tion de­mands all our praise,
Our best ado­ra­tion,
And lof­ti­est lays.

All glo­ry to God, who rul­eth on high,
And now hath be­stowed, and sent from the sky
Christ Je­sus, the Sav­ior, poor mor­tals to bless,
The pledge of His fa­vor,
The seal of His peace.

Thanksgiving and praise to Je­sus be­long;
Who claims for His grace
The New Tes­ta­ment song;
Our Sav­ior and lov­er, in hymns we pro­claim,
And all the world ov­er,
Rejoice in His name.

Ye sea far­ing men, His foot­steps adore,
His mir­acles seen, of good­ness and pow­er;
Who plough the rough ocean, your voices em­ploy,
With hear­ty de­vo­tion,
And full­ness of joy.

Ye de­sert­ed wilds, your of­fer­ings bring,
Your God re­con­ciled, ye vil­lag­ers sing;
Exult in His pas­sion, ye rude mount­ain­eers,
For lo, your sal­va­tion
With Je­sus ap­pears!

Him, strong to re­deem, ye is­land­ers praise,
Created by Him, who saves the lost race;
With shouts ne­ver ceas­ing, ex­tol the Most High,
And wel­come the bless­ings
He brings from the sky.