Come you draw near,
listen, I’ll tell,
one winter drear,
out on the fell.
Silent the air,
still as a stone;
frost like a knife
cut to the bone.
Weary of night,
watching for dawn,
heavy of heart
on Christmas morn –
High on a crag,
strange for to tell,
one shepherd stood,
rang with his bell.
Rang ‘gainst the cold,
rang all was well,
rang for good cheer,
dark to dispel.

Rang for the hope of morn
bringing Christ new-born
and the world new promise of life:

Nothing answered to the sound,
far below the village slept;
shadows deep held all the ground,
night to morning slowly crept –

Rang out his soul,
rang for Noel,
though none may hear
one shepherd bell.

God with his ear
bent to the bell –
stars in their sphere
stooped as they fell;
Water and stone,
air, fire and earth
listened and stood,
rocked with the mirth;
Mountain and vale,
fields far and wide,
caves long asleep
heard and replied;

Waves of the sea
swung to the swell;
trees in the wood
bowed to the bell.

One moment bright,
grave Gabriel
soared to the sound,
lit crag and fell –

Cherub and Seraph sang
while the planets rang
and the hours forgot how to flow –

Blazing wings upon the night
turned the shepherd’s dark to day,
then as sudden from his sight
vanished at the dawning grey;

Left him alone,
lone where he stood,
warmed in his heart,
warmed in his blood;
One shepherd bold,
eager to tell,
sheep in the fold
out on the fell