{t:It Came upon the Midnight Clear}
It [A]came [D]upon the [A]midnight clear
That [D]glorious song of [E]old
From [A]angels [D]bending [A]near the earth
To [D]touch their [E]harps of [A]gold:

[C#]"Peace on the earth, good [F#m]will to men,
From [E]heav'ns all [B]gracious [E]King."
The [A]world in [D]solemn [A]stillness lay
To [D]hear the [E]angels [A]sing.


Still through the cloven skies they come,
With peaceful wings unfurled,
And still their heavenly music floats
O'er all the weary world:

Above its sad and lowly plains
They bend on hov'ring wing,
And every o'er its Babel sounds
The blessed angels sing


For lo, the days are hastening on,
By prophet bards foretold,
When with the ever-circling years
Comes round the age of gold;

When peace shall over all the earth
Its ancient splendors fling,
And the whole world give back the song
Which now the angels sing.
