Ye holy angels bright, Who stand before God's throne And dwell in glorious light, Praise ye the Lord each one. Assist our song, or else the theme Too high doth seem for mortal tongue. Ye bless?d souls at rest, That see your Savior's face, Whose glory, e'en the least, Is far above our grace. God's praises sound, as in His sight With sweet delight you 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 or ill, Who ever lives! 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! Him magnify always His holy churches all! In Him rejoice and there proclaim His holy Name with sounding voice. My soul, bear thou thy part, Triumph in God above, And with a well tuned heart Sing thou the songs of love. And all my days let no distress Nor fears suppress His joyful praise. Away, distrustful care! I have Thy promise, Lord: To banish all despair, I have Thine oath and Word: And therefore I shall see Thy face And there Thy grace shall magnify. With Thy triumphant flock Then I shall numbered be; Built on th'eternal Rock, His glory shall we see. The heav'ns so high With praise shall ring And all shall sing in harmony.