Through midnight skies an angel flew,
Singing a quiet tune,
And the crescent, and stars, and clouds crowded
To hear his holy song.
He sang of sinless spirits, blissful
Among the pastures of Heaven,
He sang of the mighty God, and his praise
Was truly unfeigned.
In his embrace, he carried a fresh soul
For our world of sorrow and tears;
And in this young soul the sound of angelic song
Remained without words but alive.
Long languished this soul in the mundane world,
Congested with sublime aspirations,
And never the sounds of Heaven were commuted
For this one by the tedious songs of Earth.