’Twas night upon Ju­dea’s hills,
And spark­ling shone her thou­sand rills
Beneath a star­ry sky;
While shep­herds, on the dewy grass,
Watched dark noc­tur­nal sha­dows pass,
Till mid­night hours drew nigh.

When, from the crys­tal walls above,
The white-winged mes­sen­gers of love,
On joy­ous er­rand bent,
Sang through each up­land, glade and glen,
Peace on the earth, good will to men,
Your Sav­ior now is sent.

Judea’s hills take up the song,
Judea’s vales the strain pro­long,
Peace and good-will and joy.
And mor­tal tongues, through end­less days,
Shall chant the same in nob­ler lays,
And find it sweet em­ploy.