Softly, soft­ly, thro’ the mid­night,
Let the bells their mes­sage ring,
All the air is hushed and si­lent,
’Tis the birth night of the King.
In a man­ger poor and lowly,
Was the Christ Child’s cra­dle nest;
He, the rul­er, Lord, and Sav­ior,
In no roy­al robe was dressed.

Only Beth­l’hem’s shep­herds watch­ing
By their flocks up­on the hill,
Heard the hosts of an­gels sing­ing,
Peace on earth, to men good will.
Strange the si­lent world could slum­ber,
Strange that ci­ty, quaint and still,
Felt no deep­er pulse awak­en,
Felt no high­er, ho­li­er thrill!

And the bu­sy throng moved onward,
Knowing not and heed­ing less;
Now the world kneels, trust­ing, pray­er­ful,
Knowing that He came to bless;
Gladly, glad­ly, through the still­ness,
Let the joy­ful mes­sage ring;
He hath loved us, He hath saved us,
He thro’ end­less time is King.