Stars of the morning, so gloriously bright,

Filled with celestial resplendence and light;

These that, where night never followeth day,

Raise the Trishagion ever and aye:

These are Thy counsellors: these dost Thou own,

GOD of Sabaoth! the nearest Thy throne;

These are Thy ministers; these dost Thou send,

Help of the helpless ones! man to defend.

These keep the guard, amidst Salem’s dear bowers:

Thrones, Principalities, Virtues, and Powers:

Where with the Living Ones, mystical Four,

Cherubin, Seraphin, bow and adore.

“Who like the LORD?”—thunders Michael, the Chief:

Raphael, “the Cure of GOD,” comforteth grief:

And, as at Nazareth, prophet of peace,

Gabriel, “the Light of GOD,” bringeth release.

Then, when the earth was first poised in mid-space,—

Then, when the planets first sped on their race,—

Then, when were ended the six days’ employ,—

Then all the sons of GOD shouted for joy.

Still let them succour 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!