It came upon the midnight clear,

That glorious song of old,

From angels bending near the earth

To touch their harps of gold:

“Peace to the earth, good will to men,

From heaven’s all-gracious King;”

The world in solemn stillness lay

To hear the angels sing.

2 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 heavenly wing,

And ever o’er its Babel sounds

The blesséd 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 men, at war with men, hear not

The love-song which they bring:

O! hush the noise, ye men of strife,

And hear the angels sing!

4 And 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 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 splendor fling,

And the whole world send back the song

Which now the angels sing.