Hope

It came upon the midnight clear
That glorious song of old
From angles bending near the earth
To touch their harps of gold:
"Peace on the earth, goodwill to men
From heaven's all gracious King!"
The world in solemn stillness lay
To hear the angels sing

Still through the cloven skies they come
With peaceful wings unfurled.
And still their heavenly music floats
O'er all the weary world;
Above its sad and lowly plains
They bend on hovering wing
And over its Babel sounds
The blessed Angels sing

O ye beneath life's crushing load
Whose forms are bending low
Who toil along the climbing way
With painful steps and slow
Look now, for glad and golden hours
Come swiftly on the wing
Oh rest beside the weary road
And hear the angels sing

For lo! the days are hastening on
By prophets seen of old
When with the ever-circling years
shall come the time foretold
When the new heavens and earth shall own
The Prince of Peace, their King
And the whole world send back the song
Which now the angels sing.

--Edmund Hamilton Sears, 1849