Lo! their wings are gently waving,
And the angels softly rise,
Bending towards the tabernacle,
Worship beaming from their eyes.

One last, lowly genuflection!
From their brows love burning shone --
Ah! they're going, they've departed,
All but one, the brightest one.
"Why remains he?" thought the pilgrim,
Ah! he rises beauteously --
"Listen!" and the angel murmured
Sweetly: "Pilgrim, hail to thee!"

"Come unto the golden altar,
I'm an angel -- banish fear --
Come, unite in adoration
With me, for our God is here.
Come thy Jesus here reposes,
Come! He'll bless thy mortal sight --
Come! adore the Infant Saviour
With me -- for 'tis Christmas night."

Now approached the pilgrim, trembling,
Now beside the angel bent,
And the deepest, blissful gladness,
With his fervent worship blent.
"Pilgrim," said the spirit, softly,
"Thou hast seen bright angels here,
And hast heard our sacred anthems,