On a Christ­mas morn­ing bright,
Angels white, clothed in light,
Sang be­neath the vault­ed sky,
Glory to God on high;
Then a light, ex­ceed­ing bright,
Shone o’er Ju­dea’s plain;
And again was heard the strain,
Peace, good will to men.

Shepherds watch­ing there by night,
Saw the light, shin­ing bright;
Caught the ech­oes pass­ing by,
Glory to God on high;
Peace on earth at Je­sus’ birth,
Was min­gled with the strain;
And to men good will again,
Glory to God on high.

And the ech­oes ris­ing clear,
Still we hear, year by year,
Infant voic­es shout­ing high,
Glory to God on high;
Peace and love from God above,
Came down at Je­sus’ birth;
Let the song be borne along,
Round the list­en­ing earth.

On the bright­est of all days,
Let us raise, song of praise,
Join the cho­rus of the sky,
Glory to God on high;
Glory, glo­ry, oh, the sto­ry,
All around pro­claim;
Christ was born on Christ­mas morn,
Glory to His name.