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
Tho' the frost
was cruel
When a poor
man came
in sight
Gath'ring
winter fuel
''Hither, page,
and stand
by me
If thou
know'st it,
telling
Yonder
peasant,
who is he?
Where
and what
his dwelling?''
''Sire, he
lives a good
leage hence
Underneath
the mountain
Right against
the forest
fence
By Saint
Agnes'
fountain''
''Then 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 winds
blow stronger
Failed my
heart, I know
not how
I can go
no longer''
''Mark my
footsteps, my
good page
Tread thou in
them boldly
Thou shalt
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, be sure
Wealth
or rank
possessing
Ye who will
now bless
the poor
Shall yourselves
find blessing