At midnight on a clear night, that glorious old song came from angels bending to touch their golden harps to the earth: “Heaven’s all-gracious king says, ‘Peace on the earth, good will to everyone.'” The earth itself lay solemn and still so it could hear the angels sing.
Angels are still coming through the opened skies with their peaceful wings spread out. Their heavenly music still floats over the whole tired world, and hovering on their wings over the sad and lowly plains they set to their task. The blessed angels even now sing over the babel sounds of the world.
Look! The days seen of old by prophets are coming quickly—the days when the time foretold will arrive with the unending whirl of years. At that time a new heaven and earth will accept their king, the prince of peace, and the whole world will repeat again the song which the angels now sing.
[Original Text: Edmund H. Sears]
[Note: The original has angels “bending” twice, and in neither case am I really sure what it means. Are they physically bending? Are they bowing? Praying? Submitting? Working at some purpose? So I left the first “bending” alone and changed the second one to “set to their task”.]