1 Great God, to what a glorious height Hast thou advanc'd the Lord thy Son! Angels, in all their robes of light, Are made the servants of his throne.
2 Before his feet their armies wait, And swift as flames of fire they move, To manage his affairs of state In works of vengeance or of love.
3 His orders run thro' all their hosts, Legions descend at his command To shield and guard the British coasts, When foreign rage invades our land.
4 Now they are sent to guide our feet Up to the gates of thine abode, Thro' all the dangers that we meet In travelling the heavenly road.
5 Lord, when I leave this mortal ground, And thou shall bid me rise and come, Send a beloved angel down Safe to conduct my spirit home.