High on a hill of dazzling light
The King of glory spreads his seat,
And troops of angels stretched for flight
Stand waiting round his awful feet.

"Go," saith the Lord, "my Gabriel, go,
Salute the virgin's fruitful womb;
Make haste, ye cherubs, down below,
Sing and proclaim the Savior come.

Here a bright squadron leaves the skies,
And thick around Elisha stands
Anon a heav'nly soldier flies,
And breaks the chains from Peter's hands.

Thy winged troops, O God of hosts!
Wait on thy wand'ring church below
Here we are sailing to thy coasts;
Let angels be our convoy too.

Are they not all thy servants, Lord?
At thy command they go and come;
With cheerful haste obey thy word,
And guard thy children to their home.