1 Great God! to what 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 thine armies wait,
And swift as flames of fire they move,
To manage his affairs of state,
In works of veng'ance, and of love.

3 His orders run thro' all the 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 heav'nly road.

5 Lord, when I leave this mortal ground,
And thou shalt bid me rise and come;
Send a beloved angel down,
Safe to conduct my spirit home.