1 Glory in the highest! Hark, what angels sing:
Was there e’er such music borne on rising wing?
See, the gates of Heaven on their portals rise,
And the song that charms us comes from paradise.
2 Glory in the highest! Christ our Lord is born;
Hail His glorious advent on this happy morn;
Ages long have waited ’mid their brooding ills;
Now the herald-voices wake the silent hills.
3 Herdsmen in their watching lift their eyes amazed;
Sages from the sunland st the starlight gazed;
And they bear their treasures, gold for diadem,
Meet to crown the monarch born at Bethlehem.
4 Glory in the highest! with the sages bring
What is best and fairest for an offering;
Lay before the manger where the Infant lies,
All your heart’s devotion, love’s best sacrifice.