The Lord, the sovereign King,

Hath fixed his throne on high;

O'er all the heav'nly world he rules,

And all beneath the sky.

Ye angels, great in might,

And swift to do his will,

Bless ye the Lord, whose voice ye hear,

Whose pleasure ye fulfil.

Let the bright hosts who wait

The orders of their King,

And guard his churches when they pray,

Join in the praise they sing.

While all his wondrous works

Through his vast kingdom show

Their Maker's glory, thou, my soul,

Shalt sing his graces too.