In the Lonely Midnight


In the lonely midnight, on the wintry hill,
Shepherds heard the angels singing, “Peace, good will.”
Listen, O ye weary, to the angels’ song,
Unto you the tidings of great joy belong.

Though in David’s city angels sing no more,
Love makes angel music on earth’s farthest shore.
Though no heavenly glory meet your wondering eyes,
Love can make your dwelling bright as paradise.

Though the child of Mary, heralded on high,
In his manger cradle may no longer lie,
Love will reign forever, though the proud world scorn;
If you truly seek peace, Christ for you is born.