Isaac Watts, 1674-1748
Lord, when thou didst ascend on high,|
Ten thousand angels filled the sky;
Those heav'nly guards around thee wait,
Like chariots that attend thy state.
2. Not Sinai's mountain could appear
3. How bright the triumph none can tell,|
When the rebellious powers of hell,
That thousand souls had captive made,
Were all in chains like captives led.
4. Raised by his Father to the throne,
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