Children’s songs are heav’n­ly ech­oes,
From the spir­it choirs above,
Echoes from the ho­ly mount­ains
Bosomed in the land of love;
While the an­gel bands are sing­ing,
While the gold­en harps are ring­ing,
Babes on earth re­peat the strain,
Listen to the sweet re­frain.

Refrain

Angels sing­ing, children ring­ing,
Out the ech­oes through the land;
Heav’nly chor­us, float­ing o’er us,
From the sweet se­ra­phic band.

Children’s thoughts like birds of Hea­ven,
Drink the ether of the skies,
Mounting up on snowy pin­ions,
To the gates of Pa­ra­dise:
There they learn sad Cal­va­ry’s story,
Catch se­ra­phic notes of glo­ry,
Echoing soft each note that thrills
Back among the gold­en hills.

Refrain

Hark! how sweet the heav’n­ly ech­oes,
Caught from pure ce­les­ti­al lays—
From the mouths of babes and suck­lings,
Jesus hath per­fect­ed praise.
Let the child­ren keep on sing­ing,
While the courts of Heav’n are ring­ing,
Let the youth­ful voic­es rise,
In the an­thems of the skies.

Refrain