Behold God’s angels kneeling
Before the altar bright,
Their folded wings adoring
Their King concealed from sight;
“Fore Majesty divine,
Unceasingly they murmur:
All praise and glory thine.”
Sanctus, Sanctus, Sanctus.

The flick'ring glow of tapers
Lights up the altar throne,
Whereon reigns veiled Godhead,
Where love has made its home.
Their short life is consuming,
For him from whom it came,
Their fiery tongue all spirit,
His boundless love proclaim
Sanctus, Sanctus, Sanctus.

Fair blossoms of gay springtime
Shed perfume in the air,
Their tender heads inclining,
Low bent in rev' rent pray’r’
‘Neath the Eucharistic Sun
Their beauteous petals blow;
Lips their hymn in accent sweet
Through which harmonious flow:
Sanctus, Sanctus, Sanctus.

For thee, happy soul, for thee,
Ah, yes! For thee alone
Thy Lord awaits expectant
On Eucharistic throne.
True God, true man, thy Jesus,
For ever here remains;
Adore him and receive him,
And sing with loud acclaims:
Sanctus, Sanctus, Sanctus.