Silent， silent Night，
Quench the holy light
Of thy torches bright；
For possess'd of Day，
Thousand spirits stray
That sweet joys betray.
Why should joys be sweet
Usèd with deceit，
Nor with sorrows meet？
But an honest joy
Does itself destroy
For a harlot coy.
Quench the holy light
Of thy torches bright；
For possess'd of Day，
Thousand spirits stray
That sweet joys betray.
Why should joys be sweet
Usèd with deceit，
Nor with sorrows meet？
But an honest joy
Does itself destroy
For a harlot coy.