“Hush now, bairn, the night is deep, The angels walk the hill…” The frost lies white on heather’s crown, The loch lies still below, And every star looks kindly down, On hearths that faintly glow. The shepherd hums an ancient hymn, Beneath the silver sky, For love has come to dwell with them, Where winter’s heart beats nigh. Raise the song, O winds of night, Let peace be born again— For every soul that seeks the light Will find it on the glen. Though storm may rage and shadows fall, The child of hope shall reign— And through the snow, His voice shall call, The light upon the glen. They came not clad in silk or gold, But wrapped in wool and care, With humble hearts and stories old, They found their Savior there. No trumpet rang, no glory’s blaze, Just breath and straw and star— And yet that flame of Christmas days Still shines where shepherds are. Raise the song, O winds of night, Let peace be born again— For every soul that seeks the light Will find it on the glen. Though winter binds the world in white, And kings may sleep in vain— The heart that keeps His fire alight Will never freeze again. “Beannachd air an t-sìth, Agus solas an rionnag, Cumaibh e nar cridhe— Tillidh e gach Nollaig.” Raise the song, O winds of night, Let peace be born again— For love has come, and shines so bright, The light upon the glen. Forevermore, through joy and pain, Through silence, storm, and rain— The Isles shall sing that holy flame, The light upon the glen.
