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Poem by John Pierpont
No moon hung o'er the sleeping earth, But, on their thrones of light, The stars, that sang ere morning's birth, Filled the blue vault of night With heavenly music;-earthly ears Not often catch the hymn; It was 'the music of the spheres,' The song of seraphim. But there were those in Judah's land, Who watched, that night, their fold, Who heard the song of the angel band, As o'er them was unrolled The starry glory;-and there came This burst of heavenly song, From mellow tubes and lips of flame, In chorus loud and long. 'To God be glory!-for, this day, Hath shot, from Judah's stem, A Branch, that ne'er shall know decay:- The royal diadem Shall grace the brows of one, whom ye Shall in a manger find; For, him hath God raised up to be The Saviour of mankind. 'To God be glory! Peace on earth! Glory to God again! For, with this infant Saviour's birth, There comes good will to men!'- Good will to men! O God, we hail This, of thy law the sum; For, as this shall o'er earth prevail, So shall thy kingdom come.
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