Upon a Midnight Clear

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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, 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 heavenly wing,

And ever oe’r its Babel-sounds

The blessed angels sing.

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 man, at war with man, hears not

The love-song which they bring:

O hush the noise, ye men of strife,

And hear the angels sing!

For lot 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

lt’ ancient splendours fling,

And the whole world send back the song

Which now the angels sing.

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