Sons of Michael, He Approaches
Sons of Michael, he approaches! Rise; the Eternal Father greet: Bow ye thousands, low before him; Minister before his feet; Hail the Patriarch’s glad reign Spreading over sea and main.
Sons of Michael, ‘tis his chariot Rolls its burning wheels along! Raise aloft your voices million In a torrent power of song; Hail our Head with music soft! Raise week melodies aloft!
Mother of our generations, Glorious by Great Michael’s side, Take thy children’s adoration; Endless with thy Lord preside; Lo, to greet thee now advance Thousands in the glorious dance!
Raise a chorus, sons of Michael, Like old Ocean’s roaring swell, Till the mighty acclamation Through rebounding space doth tell That the Ancient One may reign In his Paradise again!
Just a bit of
Adam-God completely normal Mormon poetry for today. This is still in the LDS hymnal (slightly altered, of course)!