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Bing Crosby
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Hark! The Herald Angels Sing / It Came Upon a Midnight Clear
Hark! the herald angels sing,
'Glory to the new-born King!
Peace on earth, and mercy mild,
God and sinners reconciled.'
Joyful, all ye nations, rise,
Join the triumph of the skies,
With th' angelic host proclaim,
'Christ is born in Bethlehem.'
Hark! the herald angels sing,
'Glory to the new-born King!
Christ, by highest heaven adored,
Christ, the everlasting Lord,
Late in time behold him come,
Offspring of the favored one.
Veiled in flesh, the Godhead see,
Hail, th'incarnate Deity,
Pleased, as man, with men to dwell,
Jesus, our Emmanuel!
Hark! the herald angels sing,
'Glory to the new-born King!
Hail! the heaven-born
Prince of peace!
Hail! the Son of Righteousness!
Light and life to all he brings,
Risen with healing in his wings
Mild he lays his glory by,
Born that man no more may die,
Born to raise the son of earth,
Born to give them second birth.
Hark! the herald angels sing,
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'Glory to the new-born King!'
It came upon a midnight clear that glorious song of old
From angels bending near the earth to touch their harps of gold
Peace on the earth goodwill to men from heav'n all gracious King
The world in solemn stillness lay to hear the angels sing
For lo the days are hast'ning on by prophets seen of old
When with the ever circling years shall come the time foretold
When the new heav'n and earth shall on the Prince of peace their king
And the whole world send back the song which now 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 ever o'er its Babel sounds the blessed angels sing
Yet with the woes of sin and strife the world has suffered long
Beneath the heavenly strain have rolled two thousand years of wrong
And man at war with man hears not the tidings which they bring
O hush the noise ye men of strife and hear the 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
O 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 peace shall over all the earth its ancient splendors fling
And the whole world give back the song which now the angels sing
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