When ancient faiths the Orient held
Were crumbling to decay,
And blind mythologies of eld
In mournful ruin lay,
The hungry-hearted world was given
Truth unrevealed too long,
And from the glittering gates of heaven
Swept forth the angels' song.

When o'er the blossoming fields of thought
An autumn blight has come,
When every oracle we sought
In happier days is dumb,
Sometimes the spaces wide are riven
With strains delayed too long,
And from the glittering gates of heaven
Comes down the angels' song.

When life shrieks discords everywhere
And passion's dreadful cries
Make mad disharmony in the air
And rend the tranquil skies,
Sweet, silvery flute-notes God has striven
To make us hear too long
Steal from the glittering gates of heaven,—
The blessed angels' song.

O Christly choristers that first
Sang down to Syrian men
Let your melodious music burst
Upon the world again,
Come to our spirits helpless driven
On turbulent tides too long,
Then shall we see the gates of heaven
And hear the angels' song.