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 strifeThe 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 wayWith 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 earthIts ancient splendors fling, And the whole world give back the song Which now the angels sing!