Praise we those ministers celestial.
Whom our dear Father chose,
To be defenders of our nature frail,
Against our scheming foes.

For, since that from his glory in the skies,
Th' apostate Angel fell,
Burning with envy, evermore he tries,
To drown our souls in hell.

Then draw near, watchful spirit bend your wings,
Our country's Guardian blest!
Avert her threatening ills; expel each thing,
That hinders her true rest.

Praise to the triune Majesty, whose strength,
This mighty fabric sways;
Whose glory reigns beyond the utmost length,
Of everlasting days.