Hark, the hosts of Heaven are singing,
Praises to their new-born Lord,
Strains of sweetest music flinging,
Not a note or word unheard.
On this night, all nights excelling,
God’s high praises sounded forth,
While the angels’ songs were telling
Of the Lord’s mysterious birth.
Through the darkness, strangely splendid,
Flashed the light on shepherds’ eyes;
As their lowly flocks they tended,
Came new tidings from the skies.
All the hosts of Heaven are chanting
Songs with power to stir and thrill,
And the universe is panting
Joy’s deep longings to fulfill.
On this day then through creation
Let the glorious hymn ring out;
Let men hail the great salvation,
God with us, with song and shout.