It came upon the
midnight clear,
That glorious song of
old,
From angels bending near
the earth,
To touch their harps of
gold:
"Peace on the earth,
goodwill to men
From heavens all
gracious King!"
The world in solemn
stillness lay
To hear the angels sing.
Still through the cloven
skies they come,
With peaceful wings
unfurled;
And still their heavenly
music floats
O`er all the weary
world:
Above its sad and lowly
plains
They bend on hovering
wing,
And ever o`er its Babel
sounds
The blessed angels sing.
O ye beneath life`s
crushing load,
Whose forms are bending
low,
Who toil along the
climbing way
With painful steps and
slow;
Look now, for glad and
golden hours
Come swiftly on the
wing;
Oh rest beside the weary
road
And hear the angels
sing.
For lo! the days are
hastening on,
By prophets seen of old,
When with the
ever-circling years
Shall come the time
foretold,
When the new heaven and
earth shall own
The Prince of Peace,
their King,
And the whole world send
back the song
Which now the angels
sing.
