| Praise and thanks to Thee be sung, Mighty God, in sweetest tone! Lo! from every land and tongue, Nations gather round Thy Throne, Praising Thee, that Thou dost send, Daily from Thy Heaven above, Angel-messengers of love, Who Thy threatened Church defend, Who can offer worthily, Lord of angels, praise to Thee! | | 'Tis 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 seeks to do us hurt, Curling 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 strengthened Him, Fainting in the garden dim, 'Neath the world's vast woe and wrong. Lord, who then can worthily For such mercy honour Thee! | | 214 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 every 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 threatened Church defend. Let us henceforth worthily, Lord of angels, honour Thee. | |