The Angels’ Song (Andrews)

Quickly the bright an­gel­ic host

Descends from Heav’n to earth;

Gladly

where man in sin is lost

They tell a Sav­ior’s birth.

Glory to God! the an­gels sing

Nor shall their song be vain;

Glory to God! shall sweet­ly ring

Till earth shall catch the strain.

Quickly the bright an­gel­ic throng

Still carry tid­ings sweet;

Gladly they bear the soul along

Up to the mer­cy seat.

Quickly the bright an­gel­ic wing

The dist­ant az­ure cleave;

Gladly the heav’n­ly arch­es ring

When souls re­pent and live.

Quickly the tid­ings pass along

From earth to Heav’ns high dome;

Gladly bright ser­aphs join the song

When pro­di­gals come home.