That Song of Old

1It 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, goodwill to men,
From heav'n's allgracious King.”
The world in solemn stillness lay,
To hear the angels sing.

2Still thro' the open skies they come,
With peaceful wing unfurled;
And still their heav'nly music floats O'er all the weary world:
Above its sad and lovely plains They bend on hov'ring wing,
And ever o'er its Babel sounds The blessed angels sing.

3But with the woes of sin and strife The world has suffered long;
Beneath the angelstrain have rolled Two thousand years of wrong;
And man, at war with man, hears not The lovesong which they bring:
O cease, ye mortals, cease your strife,
And hear the angels sing!