1 Stars of the morning, so gloriously bright,
Filled with celestial resplendence and light,
These that, where night never followeth day,
Raise the 'Thrice Holy, Lord!' ever and aye:

2 These are thy ministers, these dost thou own,
Lord God of Sabaoth, nearest thy throne;
These are thy messengers, these dost thou send,
Help of the helpless ones, man to defend. A-men.

3 Still let them succor us; still let them fight,
Lord of angelic hosts, battling for right,
Till, where their anthems they ceaselessly pour,
We with the angels may bow and adore.

Amen.