In the lonely midnight,
On the wintry hill,
Shepherds heard the angels

Singing, 'Peace, goodwill.'
Listen, O ye weary,
To the angels' song:

Unto you the tidings
Of great joy belong.
Though in David's city

Angels sing no more,
Love makes angel music
On earth's darkest shore:

Though no heavenly glory
Meet your wondering eyes,
Love can make your dwelling

Bright as paradise.
Though the child of Mary,
Heralded on high,

In his manger cradle
May no longer lie,
Love is queen for ever,

Though the proud world scorn:
If we truly seek him,
Christ for us is born!