(Edmund H. Sears, Richard S. Willis)
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 heavens all gracious King!
The world in solemn stillness lay
To hear the angels sing.
[Still thro the cloven skies they come,
With peaceful wings unfurled;
And still their heavenly music floats,
Oer all the weary world.
Above its sad and lowly plains,
They bend on hovering wing;
And ever oer its Babel sounds
The blessed angels sing.
And ye, beneath lifes 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 hastening 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.
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. ]
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