Richard Willis - Edmund Sears
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, goodwill to men from heav’n’s all-gracious King.”
The world in solemn stillness lay, to hear the angels sing.
Still though the eleven skies they come, with peaceful wing unfurled,
And still their heavenly music ﬂoats o’er all the Weary world:
Above its sad and lowly plains they bend on hovering wings,
And ever o'er its Babel sounds the blessed angels sing.
0 ye, beneath life's 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;
0h 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, shall come the Age of God,
When peace shall over all the earth, its ancient splendors ﬂing,
And all the world give back the song which now the angels sing.