The sun’s asleep ’neath west­ern hills,
And dark­ened fin­gers of the night
Are cast up­on the plains and rills,
And hide all na­ture from the light.

Refrain

Beaming bright, comes the light
Of the hap­py Christ­mas morn,
Angels’ strains o’er the plains
Tell that Christ is born.
Beaming bright, comes the light
Of hap­py Christ­mas morn,
And an­gels’ strains o’er east­ern plains,
They tell that Christ is born.

O sweet­est car­ol ev­er sung,
We’d love to hear the an­gels sing;
O Child who art from Hea­ven come,
Our of­fer­ings now to Thee we bring.

Refrain

O Thou who dwell’st up­on the throne,
In lof­ty state, by ang­els blest;
Look down up­on us as we roam,
Within a world by sin op­pressed.

Refrain