| It came upon the 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 Heaven’s all gracious King
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| The world in solemn stillness lay to hear the angels sing
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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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| And He 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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| Oh, rest beside the weary road and hear the angels sing
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| And hear the angels sing |