The sun’s asleep ’neath western hills,
And darkened fingers of the night
Are cast upon the plains and rills,
And hide all nature from the light.

Refrain

Beaming bright, comes the light
Of the happy Christmas morn,
Angels’ strains o’er the plains
Tell that Christ is born.
Beaming bright, comes the light
Of happy Christmas morn,
And angels’ strains o’er eastern plains,
They tell that Christ is born.

O sweetest carol ever sung,
We’d love to hear the angels sing;
O Child who art from Heaven come,
Our offerings now to Thee we bring.

Refrain

O Thou who dwell’st upon the throne,
In lofty state, by angels blest;
Look down upon us as we roam,
Within a world by sin opprest.

Refrain