Hush, O hush, the moon's alight,
Pale the stars, and few and faint;
Lilies red and lilies white
Stand each like a haloed saint.
See the shadowy, dreamy trees
Bathe in pools of silver air;
Hear the whisper of the breeze
Murmur softly like a prayer.
Hush, o hush, 'tis holy ground,
Moon-washed, clean as driven snow,
Meet for Him the moonbeams crowned
In a garden long ago.
Moonbeams, crown Him once again;
Lilies, ring your sanctus bell:
King of Love and King of Pain,
Thou art here--Immanuel.