Ye saints, proclaim abroad
The honors of your King;
To Jesus, your incarnate God,
Your songs of praises sing.

Not angels round the throne
Of majesty above
Are half so much in debt as we
To our Immanuel’s love.

They never sunk so low,
They are not raised so high;
They never knew such depths of woe,
Such heights of majesty.

The Savior did not join
Their nature to His own;
For them He shed no blood divine
Nor breathed a single groan.

May we with angels vie
The Savior to adore;
Our debts are greater far than theirs,
O be our praises more!

Amen.