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CIt came upon the Fmidnight clear, CThat glorious Fsong of Cold, CFrom angels bending Fnear the earth, CTo touch their Gharps of Cgold: E7"Peace on the eaAmrth, goodwill to men D7From heavens all gracious GKing!" CThe world in E7solemn Fstillness Glay CTo hear the Gangels Csing.
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. 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.