Who is this King-Glory? God-of-the-Angel-Armies: he is King-Glory.

God is a safe place to hide, ready to help when we need him. We stand fearless at the cliff-edge of doom, courageous in seastorm and earthquake, Before the rush and roar of oceans, the tremors that shift mountains. Jacob-wrestling God fights for us, God-of-Angel-Armies protects us.

Jacob-wrestling God fights for us, God-of-Angel-Armies protects us.

Jacob-wrestling God fights for us, God-of-Angel-Armies protects us.

You smashed the ships of Tarshish with a storm out of the East. We heard about it, then we saw it with our eyes— In God’s city of Angel Armies, in the city our God Set on firm foundations, firm forever.

Desperadoes have ganged up on me, they’re hiding in ambush for me. I did nothing to deserve this, God, crossed no one, wronged no one. All the same, they’re after me, determined to get me. Wake up and see for yourself! You’re God, God-of-Angel-Armies, Israel’s God! Get on the job and take care of these pagans, don’t be soft on these hard cases.

God, God-of-the-Angel-Armies, how long will you smolder like a sleeping volcano while your people call for fire and brimstone? You put us on a diet of tears, bucket after bucket of salty tears to drink. You make us look ridiculous to our friends; our enemies poke fun day after day.

God-of-the-Angel-Armies, come back! Smile your blessing smile: That will be our salvation.

Remember how you brought a young vine from Egypt, cleared out the brambles and briers and planted your very own vineyard? You prepared the good earth, you planted her roots deep; the vineyard filled the land. Your vine soared high and shaded the mountains, even dwarfing the giant cedars. Your vine ranged west to the Sea, east to the River. So why do you no longer protect your vine? Trespassers pick its grapes at will; Wild pigs crash through and crush it, and the mice nibble away at what’s left. God-of-the-Angel-Armies, turn our way! Take a good look at what’s happened and attend to this vine. Care for what you once tenderly planted— the vine you raised from a shoot. And those who dared to set it on fire— give them a look that will kill! Then take the hand of your once-favorite child, the child you raised to adulthood. We will never turn our back on you; breathe life into our lungs so we can shout your name!

God, God-of-the-Angel-Armies, come back! Smile your blessing smile: That will be our salvation.

What a beautiful home, God-of-the-Angel-Armies! I’ve always longed to live in a place like this, Always dreamed of a room in your house, where I could sing for joy to God-alive!

Birds find nooks and crannies in your house, sparrows and swallows make nests there. They lay their eggs and raise their young, singing their songs in the place where we worship. God-of-the-Angel-Armies! King! God! How blessed they are to live and sing there!

God-of-the-Angel-Armies, listen: O God of Jacob, open your ears—I’m praying! Look at our shields, glistening in the sun, our faces, shining with your gracious anointing.

One day spent in your house, this beautiful place of worship, beats thousands spent on Greek island beaches. I’d rather scrub floors in the house of my God than be honored as a guest in the palace of sin. All sunshine and sovereign is God, generous in gifts and glory. He doesn’t scrimp with his traveling companions. It’s smooth sailing all the way with God-of-the-Angel-Armies.

God! Let the cosmos praise your wonderful ways, the choir of holy angels sing anthems to your faithful ways! Search high and low, scan skies and land, you’ll find nothing and no one quite like God. The holy angels are in awe before him; he looms immense and august over everyone around him. God-of-the-Angel-Armies, who is like you, powerful and faithful from every angle? You put the arrogant ocean in its place and calm its waves when they turn unruly. You gave that old hag Egypt the back of your hand, you brushed off your enemies with a flick of your wrist. You own the cosmos—you made everything in it, everything from atom to archangel. You positioned the North and South Poles; the mountains Tabor and Hermon sing duets to you. With your well-muscled arm and your grip of steel— nobody messes with you! The Right and Justice are the roots of your rule; Love and Truth are its fruits. Blessed are the people who know the passwords of praise, who shout on parade in the bright presence of God. Delighted, they dance all day long; they know who you are, what you do—they can’t keep it quiet! Your vibrant beauty has gotten inside us— you’ve been so good to us! We’re walking on air! All we are and have we owe to God, Holy God of Israel, our King!

God has set his throne in heaven; he rules over us all. He’s the King! So bless God, you angels, ready and able to fly at his bidding, quick to hear and do what he says. Bless God, all you armies of angels, alert to respond to whatever he wills. Bless God, all creatures, wherever you are— everything and everyone made by God. And you, O my soul, bless God!