| It came upon a 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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| To touch their harps of gold
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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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| With peaceful wings unfurled
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| And still their heavenly music floats
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| O’er all the weary world
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| Above its sad and lowly plains
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| They bend on hovering wing
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| And ever o’er its Babel sounds
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| The blessèd angels sing
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| For lo! |
| the days are hastening on
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| By prophet bards foretold
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| When with the ever-circling years
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| Comes round the age of gold
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| When peace shall over all the earth
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| Its ancient splendors fling
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| And the whole world give back the song
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| Which now the angels sing
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| Which now the angels sing
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| Which now the angels sing |