1 Ye saints, proclaim abroad
The honors of your king;
To Jesus your incarnate God,
Your songs of praises sing.

2 Not angels round the throne
Of majesty above,
Are half so much oblig'd as we,
To our Immanuel's love.

3 They never sunk so low,
They are not rais'd so high:
They never knew such depths of wo,
Such heights of majesty.

4 The Savior did not join
Their nature to His own:
For them he shed no blood divine,
Nor breathed a single groan.

5 May we with angels vie,
The Savior to adore;
Our debts are greater far than theirs,
O be our praises more!