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 There Jeſus reigns, and round his ſeat Millions of glorious angels meet.

Thoſe morning ſtars how bright they ſhine! How ſweetly all their voices join To praiſe their Maker!—watchful ſtill, To mark the ſignals of his will; While with their outſtretch'd wings they ſtand, To fly at his divine command.

All happy as they are, and great, Yet ſcorn they not on men to wait; And little children in their arms They gently bear, ſecure from harms.

Oh! may I, with ſuch humble zeal, My heav'nly Father's word fulfil. That I, when time has run his race, May with bleſs'd angels find a place, Born on their friendly wings on high, To joys like theirs, which never die.

ELL may I tremble, when I read That ſin did heav'n itſelf invade: Curs'd pride, with ſubtilty unknown, Perverted angels near God's throne! They ſinn'd againſt his holy name, And hateful devils they became! But wrath divine purſu'd them ſoon, And flaming vengeance hurl'd them down!

Now, in the pangs of fierce deſpair, Pris'ners at large they rage in air,