It came upon a 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 heaven’s all gracious King;»
The world in solemn stillness lay,
To hear the angels sing
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 hovering wing;
And ever o’er its Babel sounds
The blessed angels sing.
O 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