How can I sleep, when angels sing,
And all the saints on high,
Cry glory to th’eternal King,
The Lamb that once did die.
When guardian angels fill the room,
And hov’ring ’round my bed,
Do clap their wings, in love to him,
Who is my glorious head.

No longer then will I lie here,
But rise and praise and pray;
And join to sing while I enjoy
A glimpse of heav’nly day.
I’ll view the glories of the Lord,
And serve him all my days,
For what he in his essence is,
My soul shall sing his praise.

Now I’ll arise and sing and pray,
And spend such hours of joy,
In praising him whose name doth all
My heart and tongue employ.
Yet if my nature doth require,
From sleep a little rest;
Dear Jesus let it be no more,
Than thou shalt think it best.

Recordings 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8