Ye Holy Angels Bright

Ye holy angel bright, Who wait at God’s right hand, Or through the realms of light Fly at your Lord’s command, Assist our song, Or else the theme too high Doth seem for mortal tongue. Ye blessed souls at rest, Who see your Saviour’s face, Whose glory, e’en the least Is far above our grace, God’s praises sound, As in His sight With sweet delight Ye do abound.

Ye saints who toil below, Adore your heavenly King, And onward as ye go, Some joyful anthem sing; Take what He gives, And praise Him still Through good and ill, Who ever lives.

My soul, bear thou thy part, Triumph in God above, And with a well-tuned heart Sing thou the songs of love. Let all thy days Till life shall end, Whate’er He send, Be filled with praise.