1 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, good will to me,
From heav’n’s all gracious King.”
The world in solemn stillness lay,
To hear the angels sing.
2 Still thro’ the cloven skies they come
With peaceful wings unfurled,
And still their heav’n-ly music floats
O’er all the weary world;
Above its sad and lowly plains
They bend on hov’ring wing
And ever o’er its Babel sounds
The blessed angels sing.
3 Yet with the woes of sin and strife
The world has suffered long;
Beneath the angel strain have rolled
Two-thousand years of wrong;
And man, at war with man, hears not
The lovesong which they bring;
Oh, hush the noise, ye men of strife
And hear the angels sing.
4 All 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;
O rest beside the weary road,
And hear the angels sing!
5 For lo! The days are has-t’ning on,
By prophet seen of old,
When with the ever circling years
Shall come the time foretold;
When peace shall over all the earth
Its ancient splendors fling,
And the whole world give back the song
Which now the angels sing.
