At midnight an angel was crossing the sky, And quietly he sang; The moon and the stars and the concourse of clouds Paid heed to his heavenly song. He sang of the bliss of the innocent souls In heavenly gardens above; Of almighty God he sang out, and his praise Was pure and sincere. He bore in his arms a young soul To our valley of sorrow and tears; The young soul remembered the heavenly song So vivid and yet without words. And long did it struggle on earth, With wondrous desire imbued; But none of the tedious songs of our earth Could rival celestial song.