Ye Holy Angels bright

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Ye holy angels bright,

who wait at God’s right hand,

or through the realms of light

fly at your Lord’s command,

assist our song,

for else the theme

too high doth seem

for mortal tongue.


Ye blessed souls at rest,

who ran this earthly race,

and now, from sin released,

behold the Saviour’s face,

his praises sound,

as in his sight

with sweet delight

ye do abound.


Ye saints, who toil below,

adore your heavenly King,

and onward as ye go

some joyful anthem sing;

take what he gives

and praise him still,

through good and ill,

who ever lives.


My soul, bear thou thy part,

triumph in God above,

and with a well-tuned heart

sing thou the songs of love;

let all thy days

till life shall end,

what’er he send,

be filled with praise.


Words: Richard Baxter (1615-1691), 1681


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