Long ago, in so­lemn mid­night,
Shepherds watched up­on the plain,
When a band of ho­ly an­gels
Sang the earliest Christ­mas strain.

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Hallelujah! Hal­le­lu­jah!
Glory be to God on high!

Gently flowed the si­lent wa­ters
In the still­ness of the night,
And the glit­ter­ing stars in hea­ven
Shone with pure and sil­ve­ry light.

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Heav’n is op­ened, all its glo­ry
Bursts across the east­ern sky,
For the har­mo­ny of se­raphs
Tells that Christ, the Lord, is nigh.

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Now the gold­en gates are op­en,
Enter ye, who love the Lord;
For the Sav­ior’s love hath tri­umphed,
As He pro­mised in His Word.

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Join the an­gels in their cho­rus,
Praise the Lord, who came to die;
Praises in the high­est, prais­es;
Glory be to God on high.

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