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. Hymn 2:113. The same. 1 The majesty of Solomon! How glorious to behold The servants waiting round his throne, The ivory and the gold. 2 But, mighty God, thy palace shines With far superior beams; Thine angel-guards are swift as winds, Thy ministers are flames. 3 [Soon as thine only Son had made His entrance on this earth, A shining army downward fled To celebrate his birth. 4 And when oppress'd with pains and fears On the cold ground he lies, Behold a heavenly form appears T' allay his agonies.] 5 Now to the hands of Christ our King Are all their legions given; They wait upon his saints, and bring His chosen heirs to heaven. 6 Pleasure and praise run thro' their host To see a sinner turn; Then Satan has a captive lost, And Christ a subject born. 7 But there's an hour of brighter joy, When he his angels sends Obstinate rebels to destroy, And gather in his friends. 8 O! could I say, without a doubt, There shall my soul be found, Then let the great archangel shout, And the last trumpet sound. Hymn 2:114. Christ's death, victory and dominion. 1 I sing my Saviour's wondrous death; He conquer'd when he fell: _'Tis finish'd_, said his dying breath, And shook the gates of hell. 2 _'Tis finish'd_, our Immanuel cries, The dreadful work is done; Hence shall his sovereign throne arise, His kingdom is begun. 3 His cross a sure foundation laid For glory and renown, When thro' the regions of the dead He pass'd to reach the crown. 4 Exalted at his Father's side Sits our victorious Lord; To heaven and hell his hands divide The vengeance or reward. 5 The saints from his propitious eye Await their several crowns, And all the sons of darkness fly The terror of his frowns. Hymn 2:115. God the avenger of his saints; or, His kingdom. 1 High as the heavens above the ground Reigns the Creator God; Wide as the whole creation's bound Extends his awful rod. 2 Let princes of exalted state To him ascribe their crown, Render their homage at his feet, And cast their glories down. 3 Know that his kingdom is supreme, Your lofty thoughts are vain; He calls you gods, that awful name, But ye must die like men. 4 Then let the sovereigns of the globe Not dare to vex the just; He puts on vengeance like a robe, And treads the worms to dust.