Silent, silent night,
Quench the holy
Of thy torches bright;
For possessed of
Thousand spirits
That sweet joys betray.
Why should joys be
Used with deceit,
Nor with sorrows meet?
But an honest
Does itself
For a harlot coy.
Silent, silent night,
Quench the holy
Of thy torches bright;
For possessed of
Thousand spirits
That sweet joys betray.
Why should joys be
Used with deceit,
Nor with sorrows meet?
But an honest
Does itself
For a harlot coy.