Night’s ca­no­py ov­er Ju­dea now hung;
The harp of the min­strel lay still and un­strung;
The shep­herds to­ge­ther sat watch­ing the fold,
While round them reigned dark­ness and si­lence and cold.

And now, in their midst, shines an an­gel of light—
Quick van­ish­es fear at the ra­di­ant sight!
And hark, in the words of their own na­tive tongue,
Good tid­ings of joy by the an­gel are sung!

This day, in the ci­ty of Da­vid is born
A Sav­ior, whose birth is re­demp­tion’s glad morn;
No long­er through dark­ness and doubt shall ye grope,
In Beth­le­hem’s man­ger lies Is­ra­el’s hope!

A chor­us an­gel­ic re-ech­oes in Heav’n
The glo­ri­ous news to the meek shep­herds giv’n—
Peace, peace and good will un­to earth! is their song,
While prais­es to God the long pæn pro­long.