O ring, glad bells, ring loud and sweet,
And may these hearts of ours re­peat,
This Christ­mas morn, the grand old song
The tide of ag­es bears along.
That an­gels sing at Christ­mas still:
Be peace on earth, to men good will;
That an­gels sing at Christ­mas still:
Be peace on earth, to men good will.

Let us put by all care that frets,
And gro­vel­ing thoughts, all vain re­grets,
And think of Christ born long ago
In Beth­le­hem’s man­ger, poor and low;
And while the bells for glad­ness ring,
Think of the Christ Child crowned a king;
And while the bells for glad­ness ring,
Think of the Christ Child crowned a king.

O thorn crowned head! O bleed­ing hands!
This birth­day morn the Sav­ior stands
And shows His wounds, and this His plea:
Hast thou for­got­ten Cal­va­ry?
Think how He lived, and loved, and died,
And not of earth, at Christ­mas­tide;
Think how He lived, and loved, and died,
And not of earth, at Christ­mas­tide.

Ring on, glad bells! Ring sweet and clear
Your Christ­mas mes­sage far and near,
While re­ver­ent thoughts like in­cense rise
From each heart’s al­tar to the skies,
As we re­peat the song again
Of Peace on earth, good will to men;
As we re­peat the song again
Of Peace on earth, good will to men.