Ye ho­ly An­gels bright,
Which stand be­fore God’s Throne
And dwell in glo­ri­ous Light,
Praise ye the Lord each one.
You there so nigh
Are much more meet
Than we the feet,
For things so high.

Ye bless­ed Souls at Rest,
That see your Sav­iour’s face,
Whose Glo­ry, ev­en the least,
Is far above our Grace;
God’s prais­es sound,
As in His sight,
With sweet de­light,
You do abound.

All Na­tions of the Earth,
Extol the World’s Great King:
With Me­lo­dy and Mirth,
His glo­ri­ous Prais­es sing.
For He still reigns;
And will bring low,
The proud­est Foe,
That Him dis­dains.

Sing forth Je­ho­vah’s praise,
Ye Saints that on him call:
Magnify him al­waies,
His holy Church­es all:
In him re­joyce;
And there pro­claim
His Ho­ly Name
With sound­ing voice.

My Soul, bear thou thy part:
Triumph in God above;
With a well-tuned heart
Sing thou the Songs of Love.
Thou art his own,
Whose pre­cious Blood
Shed for thy good,
His Love made known.

He did in Loves begin,
Renewing thee by Grace;
Forgiving all thy sin,
Shew’d thee his pleased face,
He did thee heal,
By his Son’s Mer­it,
And by his Spir­it,
For Glo­ry Seal.

In sad­dest thoughts and grief,
In Sickness, fears and pain,
I cry’d for his relief,
And it was not in vain.
He heard with speed;
And still I found
Mercy abound,
In time of need.

Let not his Prais­es grow,
On pros­perous heights alone:
But in the Vales be­low,
Let his great Love be known.
Let no dis­tress,
Curb and con­troul,
My winged Soul,
And praise sup­press.

Let not the fear or smart
Of his chas­tiz­ing Rod,
Take off my fer­vent heart,
From prais­ing my Dear God.
What ere I feel,
Still let me bring
This Of­fer­ing,
And to him kneel.

Though I lose friends and wealth,
And bear re­proach and shame,
Though I lose ease and health
Still met me praise God’s Name.
That fear and pain
Which would de­stroy
My Thanks and Joy,
Do thou re­strain.

Though hu­mane help depart,
And flesh draw near to dust;
Let Faith keep up my heart,
To love God true and just:
And all my daies,
Let no dis­ease
Cause me to cease
His joy­ful Praise.

Though sin would make me doubt,
And fill my Soul with fears:
Thou God seem to shut out,
My dai­ly cries and tears:
By no such frost
Of sad de­layes,
Let thy sweet Praise
Be nipt and lost.

Away dis­trust­ful care!
I have thy Pro­mise, Lord.
To ban­ish all Des­pair,
I have thy Oath and Word.
And there­fore I
Shall see thy face,
And there thy grace,
Shall mag­ni­fie.

Though Sin and Death con­spire
To rob thee of thy Praise.
Still to­wards thee I’ll as­pire,
And thou dull hearts canst raise.
Open thy Door;
And when grim Death
Shall stop this Breath,
I’ll praise thee more.

With thy Tri­um­phant Flock;
Then I shall num­bered be,
Built on th’ Eter­nal Rock,
His Glo­ry we shall see.
The Heav’ns so high,
With Praise shall ring,
And all shall sing
In Har­mo­ny.

The Sun is but a Spark,
From the Eter­nal Light:
Its bright­est beams are dark,
To that most glo­ri­ous sight;
There the whole Chore,
With one ac­cord,
Shall praise the Lord
For ev­er­more.