Hark I Hear an Angel Sing.Hark! I hear an angel sing—Angels now are on the wing;And their voices singing clear,Tell us that the Spring is near.Dost thou hear them, gentle one?Dost thou see the glorious sun,Rising higher in the sky.As each day, as each day it passes by?Chorus.—Hark I hear an angel sing—Angels now are on the wing;And their voices singing clear,Tell us that the spring is near.Just beyond yon cliffs of snow,Silver rivers brightly flow;Smiling woods and fields are seen,Mantled in a robe of green.Birds and bees, and brooks, and flowers,Tell us of all vernal hours.There the birds are weaving lays,For the happy, happy Spring-time days.Look! oh, look! the southern skyMirrors flowers of every dye;Children tripping o’er the plain:Spring is coming back again—Spring is coming! shouts of glee;Singing birds on bush and tree;And the bees—their merry hums;For the Spring-time comes, it comes, it comes!
Hark! I hear an angel sing—Angels now are on the wing;And their voices singing clear,Tell us that the Spring is near.Dost thou hear them, gentle one?Dost thou see the glorious sun,Rising higher in the sky.As each day, as each day it passes by?Chorus.—Hark I hear an angel sing—Angels now are on the wing;And their voices singing clear,Tell us that the spring is near.Just beyond yon cliffs of snow,Silver rivers brightly flow;Smiling woods and fields are seen,Mantled in a robe of green.Birds and bees, and brooks, and flowers,Tell us of all vernal hours.There the birds are weaving lays,For the happy, happy Spring-time days.Look! oh, look! the southern skyMirrors flowers of every dye;Children tripping o’er the plain:Spring is coming back again—Spring is coming! shouts of glee;Singing birds on bush and tree;And the bees—their merry hums;For the Spring-time comes, it comes, it comes!
Hark! I hear an angel sing—Angels now are on the wing;And their voices singing clear,Tell us that the Spring is near.Dost thou hear them, gentle one?Dost thou see the glorious sun,Rising higher in the sky.As each day, as each day it passes by?Chorus.—Hark I hear an angel sing—Angels now are on the wing;And their voices singing clear,Tell us that the spring is near.Just beyond yon cliffs of snow,Silver rivers brightly flow;Smiling woods and fields are seen,Mantled in a robe of green.Birds and bees, and brooks, and flowers,Tell us of all vernal hours.There the birds are weaving lays,For the happy, happy Spring-time days.Look! oh, look! the southern skyMirrors flowers of every dye;Children tripping o’er the plain:Spring is coming back again—Spring is coming! shouts of glee;Singing birds on bush and tree;And the bees—their merry hums;For the Spring-time comes, it comes, it comes!
Hark! I hear an angel sing—Angels now are on the wing;And their voices singing clear,Tell us that the Spring is near.Dost thou hear them, gentle one?Dost thou see the glorious sun,Rising higher in the sky.As each day, as each day it passes by?
Hark! I hear an angel sing—
Angels now are on the wing;
And their voices singing clear,
Tell us that the Spring is near.
Dost thou hear them, gentle one?
Dost thou see the glorious sun,
Rising higher in the sky.
As each day, as each day it passes by?
Chorus.—Hark I hear an angel sing—Angels now are on the wing;And their voices singing clear,Tell us that the spring is near.
Chorus.—Hark I hear an angel sing—
Angels now are on the wing;
And their voices singing clear,
Tell us that the spring is near.
Just beyond yon cliffs of snow,Silver rivers brightly flow;Smiling woods and fields are seen,Mantled in a robe of green.Birds and bees, and brooks, and flowers,Tell us of all vernal hours.There the birds are weaving lays,For the happy, happy Spring-time days.
Just beyond yon cliffs of snow,
Silver rivers brightly flow;
Smiling woods and fields are seen,
Mantled in a robe of green.
Birds and bees, and brooks, and flowers,
Tell us of all vernal hours.
There the birds are weaving lays,
For the happy, happy Spring-time days.
Look! oh, look! the southern skyMirrors flowers of every dye;Children tripping o’er the plain:Spring is coming back again—Spring is coming! shouts of glee;Singing birds on bush and tree;And the bees—their merry hums;For the Spring-time comes, it comes, it comes!
Look! oh, look! the southern sky
Mirrors flowers of every dye;
Children tripping o’er the plain:
Spring is coming back again—
Spring is coming! shouts of glee;
Singing birds on bush and tree;
And the bees—their merry hums;
For the Spring-time comes, it comes, it comes!