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The Angels below.

Prepare! Prepare you glitt'ring Orbs above!

Psalm 24. 7, 8, 10.


At decent distance roll away!

Lift up your Heads, O ye Gates, and be ye lift up, ye Everlasting Doors, and the King of Glory shall come in.


Let onely purest Ether stay!
Let envious Clouds remove!
All ye bright Guards his Way prepare!
Sweep with your Purple Wings the Air!
The King of Glory's entring there!

The Angels above.

Say you! for surely you must know,

Who is this King of Glory?


Say you who keep perpetual Guard below,
What God, what Hero is't you bring;
What wond'rous King?

The Angels below.

'Tis He who lately Triumph'd o'er the Grave;

It is the Lord, strong and mighty, even the Lord mighty in Battle.


Who drags the King of Pride along,
With ease the stronger binds the Strong,
And Death and Hell his Slave!
Whom all the heav'nly Warriors sing,
Their Trophies to his Footstool bring;

The Lord of Hosts, he is the King of Glory.


The Conq'ring God, the wond'rous King!