Christmas mu­sic mer­ri­ly wakes the ech­oes;
Hark! hark! how it freights the air;
While the storm-king holds his wild­est re­vels,
Flings, flings snow­drifts ev­eryw­here;
From the bel­fry in the tow­er,
In the cha­pel on the hill,
Harmony des­cends like sil­ver show­er,
Or like sweet­ly flow­ing rill.

Christmas mu­sic mer­ri­ly wakes the ech­oes;
Hark! hark! ov­er the ci­ty’s streets;
Pealing clear­ly while the snow is fall­ing,
Pure, pure cov­er­ing all it meets;
The ca­thed­ral’s deep-toned thun­der
Joins a sweet­ly chim­ing bell,
And the pass­er, lost in joy and won­der,
Lists what me­tal tongues can tell.

Christmas mu­sic mer­ri­ly wakes the ech­oes;
Hark! hark! sound­ing far and near;
Happy child­ren lend their flute-like voic­es,
Praise, praise Chris­tmas joy and cheer;
Sweetest mu­sic of the heart-strings,
Swept by fin­gers skilled by love,
Gives to life a charm so true, en­dear­ing,
Earth be­comes like Heav’n above.