425. Holy, Holy, Is What the Angels Sing

There is singing up in heaven such as we have never known, Where the angels sing the praises of the Lamb upon the throne; Their sweet harps are ever tuneful and their voices always clear, O that we might be more like them while we serve the Master here! Holy, holy, is what the angels sing, And I expect to help them make the courts of heaven ring; But when I sing redemption's story They will fold their wings, For angels never felt the joys that our salvation brings. But I hear another anthem, blending voices clear and strong, Unto Him who hath redeemed us and hath bought us, is the song; We have come thro' tribulations to this land so fair and bright, In the fountain freely flowing He hath made our garments white. Holy, holy, is what the angels sing, And I expect to help them make the courts of heaven ring; But when I sing redemption's story They will fold their wings, For angels never felt the joys that our salvation brings. Then the angels stand and listen, for they cannot join that song, Like the sound of many waters, by that happy, bloodwashed throng; For they sing about great trials, battles fought and vict'ries won, And they praise their great Redeemer, who hath said to them, Well done. Holy, holy, is what the angels sing, And I expect to help them make the courts of heaven ring; But when I sing redemption's story They will fold their wings, For angels never felt the joys that our salvation brings. So, although I'm not an angel, yet I know that over there I will join a...