Stars of the morning, so gloriously bright,
Filled with celestial splendor and light,
These that, where night never followeth day,
Raise the �Thrice Holy� song ever and aye.

These are Thy ministers, these dost Thou own,
God of Sabaoth, the nearest Thy throne;
These are Thy messengers, These dost Thou send,
Help of the helpless ones! man to defend.

�Who like the Lord?� thunders Michael the chief;
Raphael, �the cure of God,� comforteth grief;
And, as at Nazareth, prophet of peace,
Gabriel, �the light of God,� bringeth release.

Then, when the earth was first poised in mid space,
Then, when the planets first sped on their race,
Then, when were ended the six days� employ,
Then all the sons of God shouted for joy.

Still let them succor us; still let them fight,
Lord of angelic hosts, battling for right;
Till, where their anthems they ceaselessly pour,
We with the angels may bow and adore.