Chorus of Angels. Michael

Chorus:

Hail! to the hero, hail! Who the wicked did assail; And in the fight, o'er his might and his standard. Triumphant did prevail. Who strove for God's own crown, From his high and splendid throne, Into night, with his might, hath been driven. How dazzling God's renown! Though flames the tumult fell, The valiant Michael With his hand the fierce brand can extinguish: All mutiny shall quell. God's banner he doth rear: Come, wreathe his brow austere. Now, in peace, shall increase Heaven's Palace: No discord now we hear. Then to the Godhead raise. In His deathless courts, your praise. Glory bring to the King of all Kingdoms: His deeds inspire our lays.

Michael:

Praise be to God! The state of things above Has changed. Our Grand Foe has met his defeat; And in our hands he leaves his standard, helm, And morning-star, and shield and banners bold. Which spoil, gained in pursuit, even now doth hang, 'Mid joys triumphant, honors, songs of praise, And sounds of trump, on Heaven's axis bright, The mirror clear of all rebelliousness, Of all ambition that would rear its crest 'Gainst God, the stem immovable—grand fount, Prime source, and Father of all things that are, Which from His hand their nature did receive, And various attributes. No more shall we Behold the glow of Majesty Supreme Dimmed by the damp of base ingratitude. There, deep beneath our sight and these high thrones, They wander through the air and restlessly Move to and fro, all blind and overcast With shrouding clouds, and horribly deformed. Thus is his fate, who would assail God's Throne.

Chorus:

Thus is his fate, who would assail God's Throne. Thus is his fate, who would, through envy, man, In God's own image made, deprive of light.