1 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, to all good will,
from heaven the news we bring."
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 hovering wing;
and ever o'er its Babel sounds
the blessed angels sing.
3 But with the woes of war and strife
the world has suffered long;
beneath the angel-strain have rolled
two thousand years of wrong;
and we who fight the wars hear not
the love song which they bring.
O hush the noise of battle strife,
and hear the angels sing.
4 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.