Custodes hominum psallimus angelos

Praise we those ministers celestial
Whom the dread Father chose
To be the Guardians of our nature frail,
Against our scheming foes.

For, since that from his glory in the skies
Th’ Apostate Angel fell,
Burning with envy, evermore he tries
To drown our souls in hell.

Then hither, watchful Spirit, bend thy wing,
Our country’s Guardian blest!
Avert her threat’ning ills; expel each thing
That hindereth her rest.

Praise to the glorious Trinity, whose strength
This mighty fabric sways;
Whose glory spreads beyond the utmost length
Of everlasting days.