1 Ye angels, who stand round the throne,
And view my Immanuel's face,
In rapturous songs make him known;
Oh, tune your soft harps to his praise.

2 Ye saints, who stand nearer than they,
And cast your bright crowns at his feet,
His grace and his glory display,
And all his rich mercy repeat.

3 He snatched you from hell and the grave;
He ransomed from death and despair;
For you he is mighty to save,
And faithful to bring you safe there.

4 Oh, when will the moment appear,
When I shall unite in your song?
I'm weary of lingering here;
For I to your Saviour belong.

5 I'm fettered and chained here in clay;
I struggle and pant to be free;
I long to be soaring away,
My God and my Saviour to see.