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Holly-berries on the hills,
Bright above the rocks and rills,
Mistletoe in tree-tops high,
Throned against the wintry sky.
Unattended flocks that stray
O'er the hill-slopes far away.
In the East, bright stars that shine
With a radiance half divine;
Christmas carols on the air
Gladly sounding, everywhere,
Chimes from many a bell-tower tall
Falling sweetly over all;
Fair the scene, but dim and cold,
When we look on that of old,
Bethlehem of prophecy,
Looking out toward the sea,
Lying midst her hills of green
Glistening in her starlight sheen;
While the shepherds guard their flocks
Resting by the silent rocks;
And the wise men, from afar
Watch their glorious, guiding star.
Hush! the air with music swells
Sweeter than the chime of bells,
Look! a heavenly choir attends
Glory's light from heaven descends;
Sweetly o'er those vine-wreathed knolls,
That majestic chorus rolls,
'Till the shepherds catch the strain:
"Peace on earth, good will to men."


No bright angels throng these skies
Making earth a paradise,
But the glorious song they sung
Trembles now on every tongue;
Infant voices now proclaim:
"Peace on earth, good will to men."
So we gaze on each bright scene
Where long ages roll between
That, more glorious bright
This, in a serener light;
But the reign of peace begun
Evermore its race shall run;
Now we see its silvery tide
Down the rolling ages glide;
And each Christmas, sing again:
"Peace on earth, good will to men."