4 Archangels sound his lofty praise
Thro' every heavenly street,
And lay their highest honours down
Submissive at his feet.
5 Those soft, those blessed feet of his
That once rude iron tore,
High on a throne of light they stand,
And all the saints adore.
6 His head, the dear majestic head
That cruel thorns did wound,
See what immortal glories shine,
And circle it around.
7 This is the Man, th' exalted Man,
Whom we unseen adore;
But when our eyes behold his face,
Our hearts shall love him more.
8 [Lord, how our souls are all on fire
To see thy bless'd abode,
Our tongues rejoice in tunes of praise
To our incarnate God.
9 And whilst our faith enjoys this sight,
We long to leave our clay,
And wish thy fiery chariots, Lord,
To fetch our souls away.]
Hymn 2:92
The church saved, and her enemies disappointed.
Composed the 5th of November, 1694.
1 Shout to the Lord, and let our joys
Thro' the whole nation run;
Ye British skies, resound the noise
Beyond the rising sun.
2 Thee, mighty God, our souls admire,
Thee our glad voices sing,
And join with the celestial choir
To praise th' eternal King.