MICHAEL THE ARCHANGEL
His fiery sword is never at rest,
His foot is in the stirrup prest;
Through all the world where wrong is done
Michael the Soldier rideth on.
His foot is in the stirrup prest;
Through all the world where wrong is done
Michael the Soldier rideth on.
Michael, Commander! Angels are
That sound the trumpet, and that bear
The banners by the Throne, where is
The King one nameth on one's knees.
That sound the trumpet, and that bear
The banners by the Throne, where is
The King one nameth on one's knees.
Angels there are of peace and prayers,
And them that go with wayfarers,
And them that watch the house of birth,
And them that bring the dead from earth.
And them that go with wayfarers,
And them that watch the house of birth,
And them that bring the dead from earth.
And mine own Angel. Yet I see,
Heading God's army gloriously,
Michael Archangel, like a sun,
Splendid beyond comparison!
Heading God's army gloriously,
Michael Archangel, like a sun,
Splendid beyond comparison!
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