Good King Wenceslas
Good King Wenceslas looked out
On the feast of Stephen
When the snow lay 'round about
Deep and crisp and even
Brightly shone the moon that night
Though the frost was cruel
When a poor man came in sight
Gathering winter fuel
Hither, page come stand by me
If thou know'st it, telling
Yonder peasant, who is he?
Where and what his dwelling?
Sire he lives a good league hence
Underneath the mountain
Right against the forest fence
By Saint Agnes' fountain
Bring me flesh and bring me wine
Bring me pine logs hither
Thou and I will see him dine
When we bear them thither
Page and monarch, forth they went
Forth they went together
Through the rude wind's wild lament
And the bitter weather
Sire the night is darker now
And the wind blows stronger
Fail my heart I know not how
I can go no longer
Mark my footsteps, good my page
Tread now in them boldly
Thou shall find the winter's rage
Freeze thy blood less coldly
In his master's steps he trod
Where the snow lay dinted
Heat was in the very sod
Which the Saint had printed
Therefore Christian men rejoice
Wealth or rank possessing
Ye who now will bless the poor
Shall yourselves find blessing