A band of herds­men tar­ried late,
Through hours of night dis­con­so­late;
Around, the snow lay glist­en­ing white,
And stars o’er­head were shin­ing bright;
O fa­vored shep­herds, there shall rise
A bright­er star in yon­der skies.

Whence comes this glo­ry, bright­er far
Than light that shines from mid­night star?
An an­gel from the Lord ap­pears,
And lo! their minds are filled with fears;
O fa­vored sheph­erds, where­fore fear?
The mes­sen­ger of God is here.

O band of herds­men, list! I bring
Glad tid­ings of a pro­mised king;
Go, in a man­ger ye shall find
The new-born Sav­ior of man­kind;
O fa­vored shep­herds, such sur­prise!
To see the Christ in mean dis­guise.

Then stood the herds­men all amaze,
For hea­ven with glo­ry was ablaze;
And choirs of an­gels, clad in white,
Awoke with song the si­lent night;
O fa­vored shep­herds, ye were blest,
To hear that heav’n­ly song ex­pressed.

To God be glo­ry, thus they sang,
While earth and Heav’n with mu­sic rang;
And peace abound­ing hence­forth dwell
With those on earth who please Me well;
O fa­vored shep­herds, night is past,
And morn, bright morn, is come at last.

O band of herds­men, long ago,
That song was sung on earth be­low,
Now my­ri­ad hosts up­lift the strains
That first awoke on Beth­le’m’s plains;
O fa­vored shep­herds, round the throne,
The an­gel’s song is now your own.