Still through the cloven skies they come With peaceful wings unfurled And still their heavenly music floats Oer all the weary world; Above its sad and lowly plains They bend on hovering wing. And ever oer its Babel sounds The blessed angels sing.
Yet with te woes of sin and strife The world hath suffered long; Beneath the angel strain have rolled Two thousand years of wrong; And man, at war with man, hears not The love song which they bring O hush the noise, ye men of strife, And hear the angels sing.
For lo! the days are hastening on, By prophet bards foretold, When, with the ever circling years, Shall come the Age of Gold; When peace shall over all the earth Its ancient splendors fling, And all the world give back the song Which now the angels sing.