O night of nights! O night
Desired of man so long!
The an­cient heav­ens fled forth in light
To sing thee thy new song;
And shoot­ing down the steep,
To shep­herd folk of old,
An angel, while they watched their sheep,
Set foot be­side the fold.

Lo! while as like to die
Of that keen light he shed,
They looked on his pure ma­jes­ty,
Amazed, and sore be­stead;
Lo! while with words of cheer
He bade their trem­bling cease,
The flocks of God swept sweet­ly near,
And sang to them of peace.

All on the hill­side grass
That ful­gent ra­di­ance fell,
So close those in­no­cents did pass,
Their words were heard right well;
Among the sheep, their wings
Some fold­ing, walked the sod
An or­dered throng of shin­ing things,
White, with the smile of God.

The waits of Hea­ven to hear,
Oh! what it must have been!
Think, Chris­tian peo­ple, think, and fear
For cold hearts, for un­clean;
Think how the times go by,
How love and long­ing fail,
Think how we live and how we die,
As this were but a tale.

O ten­der tale of old,
Live in thy dear re­nown;
God’s smile was in the dark, be­hold
That way His hosts came down;
Light up, great God, Thy Word,
Make the blest mean­ing strong,
As if our ears, in­deed, had heard
The glo­ry of their song.

It was so far away,
But Thou couldst make it near,
And all its liv­ing might dis­play
And cry to it, Be here,
Here, in the un­rest­ing town,
As once re­mote to them,
Who heard it when the heav’ns came down,
On pas­tor­al Beth­le­hem.

It was so long ago,
But God can make it now,
And as with that sweet ov­er­flow,
Our emp­ty hearts en­dow;
Take, Lord, those words out­worn,
O! make them new for aye,
Speak—Unto you a child is born,
Today—to­day—to­day.