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 men,'

From heav'n's all-gracious King.

The world in solemn stillness lay,

To hear the angels sing!



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 love song which they bring:

O hush the noise, ye men of strife,

And hear the angels sing!



Still thro' the cloven skies they come,

With peaceful wings unfurl'd;

And still their heav'nly 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.



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!



For lo! the days are hast'ning on,

By prophet bards foretold,

When with the ever-circling years

Comes round the age of gold;

When peace shall over all the earth

Its ancient splendors fling,

And the whole world give back the song

Which now the angels sing!