You who his temple throng,
Jehovah’s praise prolong,
new anthems sing;
you saints, with joy declare
your Maker’s loving care,
and let the children there
joy in their King.
O let his name employ
your ev’ry note of joy,
his praises speak;
he looks with loving face
upon his chosen race,
and will with ev’ry grace
adorn the meek.
You saints, your joy proclaim
and glory in the name
of God above;
and when the daylight dies,
ere sleep shall close your eyes,
let praise to God arise
for all his love.