Now let us join with hearts and tongues,
And emulate the angels’ songs;
Yea, sinners may address their King
In songs that angels cannot sing.
They praise the Lamb who once was slain;
But we can add a higher strain;
Not only say, “He suffer’d thus,
“But that he suffer’d all for us.”
When angels by transgression fell,
Justice consign’d them all to hell;
But Mercy form’d a wondrous plan,
To save and honour fallen man.
Jesus, who pass’d the angels by,
Assum’d our flesh to bleed and die;
And still he makes it his abode;
As man he fills the throne of God.
Our next of kin, our Brother now,
Is he to whom the angels bow;
They join with us to praise his name,
But we the nearest int’rest claim.
But, ah! how faint our praises rise!
Sure, ’tis the wonder of the skies,
That we, who share his richest love,
So cold and unconcern’d should prove.
Oh, glorious hour, it comes with speed!
When we, from sin and darkness freed,
Shall see the God who died for man,
And praise him more than angels can.
~John Newton~
Our Own Hymn-Book (Pasadena, TX; Pilgrim Publications; 2002) p.66.
The Old Guys 
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