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Christ, in highest heaven enthronèd,
equal of the Father's might,
by pure spirits, trembling ownèd,
God of God, and Light of Light,
thee, 'mid angel hosts we sing,
thee their Maker and their King.
All who circling round adore thee,
all who bow before thy Throne,
burn with flaming zeal before thee,
thy behests to carry down;
to and fro, 'twixt earth and heaven,
speed they each on errands given.
First of all those legions glorious,
Michael waves his sword of flame,
who of old in war victorious
did the dragon's fierceness tame;
who with might invincible
thrust the rebel down to hell.
Strong to aid the sick and dying,
called from heaven they swiftly fly,
grace divine and strength supplying
in their mortal agony:
souls released from bondage here
safe to paradise they bear.
To the Father praise be given
by the unfallen angel-host,
who in his great war have striven
with the legions of the lost;
equal praise in highest heaven
to the Son and Holy Ghost.