There were whis­per­ings in the hea­vens,
There were mur­mur­ings in the clouds;
There were harp-tones full of sweet­ness
From the joy­ous an­gel crowds;
There were songs from ho­ly voic­es,
There was bright­ness o’er the morn,
And all na­ture thrilled with glad­ness,
When our Sav­ior, Christ, was born.

It was in a lone­ly man­ger
Where the Son of God was laid,
And did naught of gran­deur com­fort
That pure ho­ly mo­ther maid;
But in still­ness and in beau­ty,
While the shep­herds round adored,
Slept in love and lov­ing ten­der­est
Virgin mo­ther and her Lord.

And the an­gels, ho­ver­ing, guard­ed
Him with love-ex­tend­ed wing,
Sweetly sing­ing hope for sin­ners,
And of glo­ry to their king.
Let us learn to love like Je­sus,
And like Him for sor­rows mourn,
Nor for­get ’twas God who loved us,
When our Sav­ior, Christ, was born.