Glorious Beauteous Golden-bright
Shedding softest, purest light,
Shone the stars that Christmas night,
When the Jewish shepherds kept
Watch beside their flocks that slept.
But the stars’ sweet golden gleam
Faded quickly as a dream
’Mid the wondrous glory-stream
That illumined all the earth,
When Christ’s angels sang His birth.
Soft and pure and holy glory,
Kings and seers and prophets hoary,
Shed throughout the sacred story:
While the priests, like shepherds true,
Watched beside God’s chosen few.
But that light no more availéd,
And its splendor staighway paléd
In His light Whom angels hailéd;
Even as the stars of old,
’Mid the brightness lost their gold.
Now no more on Christmas night,
Is the sky with angels bright,
But for ever shines the Light;
Even He Whose birth they told
To the shepherds by the fold.
Since that Light then darkens never,
Let us all, with glad endeavor,
Sing the song that echoes ever:
Glory in the highest Heaven!
Peace on earth to us forgiven.