1 Angels, where'er we go, attend
Our steps, what'er betide,
With watchful care their charge defend,
And evil turn aside.
2 Myriads of bright cherubic bands,
Sent by the King of kings,
Rejoice to bear us in their hands,
And shade us with their wings.
3 Jehovah's charioteers surround;
The ministerial choir
Encamp where'er his heirs are found,
And form our wall of fire.
4 Ten thousand offices unseen
For us they gladly do,
Deliver in the furnace keen,
And safe escort us through.
5 But thronging round, with busiest love
They guard the dying breast,
The lurking fiend far off remove,
And sing our souls to rest.
6 And when our spirits we reign,
On outstretched wings they bear,
And lodge us in the arms of divine,
And leave us ever there.
Source: The Book of Worship #146