Holy, Holy, Holy
Is our King.
He reigns Supreme,
Lofty on His Throne.
His People flock, they run
To where you may ask?
To Yerushalayim, His Home.
He never sleeps nor slumbers,
Often, we wish we had His number.
But He stands tall, facing out
Before our enemies, He saves us no doubt.
For Him we live, through Him we die.
We cry, like a young child
Are we there yet?
With You by our side, it is only
a matter of time.
Our Strength, Our Shield
O’Zion, to You, You are our Salvation.
