HYMN 27. (L. M.) Praise ye him, all his Angels, Psalm cxlviii. 2.
I
God! the eternal awful name
That the whole heavenly army fears,
That shakes the wide creation's frame,
And Satan trembles when he hears.
II
Like flames of fire his servants are,
And light surrounds his dwelling-place;
But, O ye fiery flames, declare
The brighter glories of his face.
III
'Tis not for such poor worms as we
To speak so infinite a thing,
But your immortal eyes survey
The beauties of your sovereign King.
IV
Tell how he shews his smiling face,
And clothes all heaven in bright array;
Triumph and joy run thro' the place,
And songs eternal as the day.
V
Speak, (for you feel his burning love)
What zeal it spreads thro' all your frame:
That sacred fire dwells all above,
For we on earth have lost the name.
VI
Sing of his power and justice too,
That infinite right hand of his
That vanquish'd Satan and his crew,
And thunder drove them down from bliss.
VII
What mighty storms of poison'd darts
Were hurl'd upon the rebels there!
What deadly javelins nail'd their hearts
Fast to the racks of long despair!
VIII
Shout to your King, you heavenly host,
You that beheld the sinking foe;
Firmly ye stood when they were lost;
Praise the rich grace that kept you so.
IX
Proclaim his wonders from the skies,
Let every distant nation hear;
And while you sound his lofty praise,
Let humble mortals bow and fear.
