Glory shone o'er Bethlehem's plains,
Angel bands in joyful strains
Sung beneath the midnight sky
" Glory be to God on high!
Peace on earth, good will to men " —
Sound it to earth's farthest ken.
Ah! not yet our Bands of Hope
May with angel minstrels cope;
Yet to yonder crystal dome,
While the cry was still they come,
See five thousand children throng.
Hark! responsive to the song
Of the angels, swelling high,
Thrilling anthems greet the sky.
Blessed echo to the strains
Sung of old o'er Bethlehem's plains —
Sing, ye youthful minstrels, sing,
Till the aisles and arches ring;
Sing, bright angels! hover nigh,
Glory be to God on high.
Peace on earth, to men good will!
Strains your songs re-echo still —
Sing the holy Infant's name,
Who that night to Bethlehem came;
Angel singers hailed His birth
With songs of joy and sacred mirth.
Bands of Hope take up the strain,
Sing aloud, more loud again,
Till it reach earth's farthest ken —
" Peace on earth, good will to men. "