’Tis Christ­mas eve! The set­ting sun
Makes sha­dows length­en on the plain;
The stars come twink­ling one by one,
And bring the joy­ous night again.

Unlike Ju­dea’s si­lent plains
When wea­ried na­ture calm­ly slept,
While shep­herds on the hills and glens
Their long and so­lemn vi­gils kept.

And where along the deep blue arch
A glo­ry shone, and then a throng,
From where the spark­ling pla­nets march
Came fly­ing down with jo­yous song.

Unlike the time the wick­ed king
Sought where the in­fant Sav­ior lay,
When God for­bade his base de­sign,
And bore the pre­cious child away.

We joy to know that time is past,
The bless­èd Sav­ior’s na­tal day,
That He’s as­cend­ed to His home,
And for His saints pre­pared the way.

Where an­gels tune their harps of gold
And saints a lof­ti­er song shall raise,
While wait­ing my­ri­ads join the strain
In an eter­nal song of praise.