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Hark! The Herald Angels Sing/It Came Upon a Midnight Clear
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Bing Crosby
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1
Hark! the herald angels sing,
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"Glory to the new-born King!
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Peace on earth, and mercy mild,
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God and sinners reconciled."
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Joyful, all ye nations, rise,
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Join the triumph of the skies,
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With th' angelic host proclaim,
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"Christ is born in Bethlehem."
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Hark! the herald angels sing,
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"Glory to the new-born King!
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Christ, by highest heaven adored,
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Christ, the everlasting Lord,
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Late in time behold him come,
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Offspring of the favored one.
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Veiled in flesh, the Godhead see,
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Hail, th'incarnate Deity,
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Pleased, as man, with men to dwell,
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Jesus, our Emmanuel!
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Hark! the herald angels sing,
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"Glory to the new-born King!
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Hail! the heaven-born
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Prince of peace!
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Hail! the Son of Righteousness!
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Light and life to all he brings,
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Risen with healing in his wings
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Mild he lays his glory by,
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Born that man no more may die,
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Born to raise the son of earth,
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Born to give them second birth.
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Hark! the herald angels sing,
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"Glory to the new-born King!"
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It came upon a midnight clear that glorious song of old
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From angels bending near the earth to touch their harps of gold
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Peace on the earth goodwill to men from heav' all gracious King
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The world in solemn stillness lay to hear the angels sing
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For lo the days are hast'ning on by prophets seen of old
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When with the ever circling years shall come the time foretold
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When the new heav' and earth shall on the Prince of peace their king
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And the whole world send back the song which now the angels sing
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Still through the cloven skies they come with peaceful wings unfurled
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And still their heavenly music floats o'er all the weary world
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Above its sad and lowly plains they bend on hovering wing
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And ever o'er its Babel sounds the blessed angels sing
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Yet with the woes of sin and strife the world has suffered long
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Beneath the heavenly strain have rolled two thousand years of wrong
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And man at war with man hears not the tidings which they bring
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O hush the noise ye men of strife and hear the angels sing
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O ye, beneath life's crushing load whose forms are bending low
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Who toil along the climbing way with painful steps and slow
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Look now for glad and golden hours come swiftly on the wing
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O rest beside the weary road and hear the angels sing
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For lo the days are hastening on by prophets seen of old
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When with the ever circling years shall come the time foretold
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When peace shall over all the earth its ancient splendors fling
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And the whole world give back the song which now the angels sing
Bing Crosby - Hark! The Herald Angels Si...
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