| It came upon the midnight clear,
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| That glorious song of old,
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| From angels bending near the earth
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| With news of joy foretold,
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| «Peace on the earth, good will to men
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| From heaven’s all gracious King.»
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| The world in solemn stillness lay,
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| To hear the angels sing.
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| Still through the cloven skies they come,
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| Love’s banner all unfurled;
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| And still their heavenly music floats
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| Over all the weary world.
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| Above its sad and lowly plains
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| Old echoes plaintive ring,
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| And ever over its Babel sounds
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| The blessed angels sing.
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| Yet with the woes of sin and strife
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| The world has suffered long;
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| Beneath the Angel-strain have rolled
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| Two thousand years of wrong;
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| And man at war with man hears not
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| The love-song which they bring;
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| O! |
| hush the noise, ye men of strife,
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| And hear the Angels sing.
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| O ye, beneath life’s crushing load
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| Whose forms are bending low,
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| Who toil along the climbing way
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| With painful steps and slow;
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| Look now! |
| for glad and golden hours
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| Come swiftly on the wing;
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| O rest beside the weary road
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| And hear the angels sing.
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| For lo! |
| the days are hastening on,
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| By prophets seen of old,
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| When with the ever-circling years
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| Shall come the time foretold,
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| When the new heaven and earth shall own
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| The Prince of Peace their King,
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| And the whole world send back the song
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| Which now the angels sing |