Praise and thanks to Thee be sung,

Mighty God, in sweetest tone!

Lo! from ev'ry land and tongue

Nations gather round Thy throne,

Praising Thee that Thou dost send,

Daily from Thy heav'n above,

Angel-messengers of love,

Who Thy threaten'd Church defend.

Who can offer worthily,

Lord of angels, praise to Thee!

'T is your office, Spirits bright,

Still to guard us night and day,

And before your heavenly might

Powers of darkness flee away;

Ever doth your unseen host

Camp around us, and avert

All that feeks to do us hurt,

Curbing Satan's malice most.

Lord, who then can worthily

For such goodness honour Thee!

And ye come on ready wing,

When we drift toward sheer despair,

Seeing nought where we might cling,

Suddenly, lo, ye are there!

And the wearied heart grows strong,

As an angel strengthen'd Him,

Fainting in the garden dim

'Neath the world's vast woe and wrong.

Lord, who then can worthily

For such mercy honour Thee!

Right and seemly is it then

We should glory, that our God

Hath such honour put on men,

That He sends o'er earth abroad

Princes of the realm above,

Champions, who by day and night

Shield us with His holy might;

Come, behold how great His love!

Lord, who then can worthily

For such favour honour Thee!

Praise and thanks to Thee be sung,

Mighty God, in sweetest tone!

Lo! from ev'ry land and tongue

Nations gather round Thy throne,

Praising Thee that Thou dost send,

Hourly from Thy glorious sphere,

Angels down to help us here,

And Thy threaten'd Church defend.

Let us henceforth worthily,

Lord of angels, honour Thee.