It came upon a midnight clear,
That glorious song of old,
From angels bending near the earth,
To touch their harps of gold;

"Peace on the earth, good will to men,
From Heavens all-gracious King.
The world in solemn stillness lay,
To hear the angels sing.

Above its sad and lowly plains,
They bend on hovering wing,
And ever over its Babel sounds
The blessed angels sing.

And ye, beneath lifes crushing load,
Whose forms are bending low,
Who toil along the climbing way
With painful steps and slow,

Look now! for glad and golden hours
Come swiftly on the wing.
Oh, rest beside the weary road,
And hear the angels sing!
And hear the angels sing!

Frank Sinatra
December 12, 1915 – May 14, 1998