1 Great God, to what a glorious height
Hast thou advanc'd the Lord thy Son!
Angels, in all their robes of light,
Are made the servants of his throne.
2 Before his feet their armies wait,
And swift as flames of fire they move,
To manage his affairs of state
In works of vengeance or of love.
3 His orders run thro' all their hosts,
Legions descend at his command
To shield and guard the British coasts,
When foreign rage invades our land.
4 Now they are sent to guide our feet
Up to the gates of thine abode,
Thro' all the dangers that we meet
In travelling the heavenly road.
5 Lord, when I leave this mortal ground,
And thou shall bid me rise and come,
Send a beloved angel down
Safe to conduct my spirit home.