Holy, Holy, Is What the Angels Sing

There is sing­ing up in Heav­en

Such as we have nev­er known

Where the an­gels sing the prais­es

Of the Lamb up­on the throne

Their sweet harps are ev­er tune­ful

And their voic­es al­ways clear

O that we might be more like them

While we serve the Mas­ter here!

Holy

ho­ly

is what the an­gels sing

And I ex­pect to help them make

The courts of Heav­en ring;

But when I sing re­demp­tion’s sto­ry

They will fold their wings

For an­gels nev­er felt the joys

That our sal­va­tion brings.

But I hear ano­ther an­them

Blending voic­es clear and strong

Unto Him who hath re­deemed us

And hath bought us

is the song;

We have come through tri­bu­la­tion

To this land so fair and bright

In the fount­ain free­ly flow­ing

He hath made our gar­ments white.

Then the an­gels stand and list­en

For they can­not join the song

Like the sound of ma­ny waters

By that hap­py

blood washed throng

For they sing about great tri­als

Battles fought and vic­to­ries won

And they praise their great Re­deem­er

Who hath said to them

Well done.

So

al­though I’m not an an­gel

Yet I know that ov­er there

I will join a bless­èd chor­us

That the an­gels can­not share;

I will sing about my Sav­ior

Who up­on dark Cal­va­ry

Freely par­doned my trans­gress­ions

Died to set a sin­ner free.