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 site,
Gathering winter fuel.

Hither page and stand by me!
I you know it telling:
Yonder man who is he,
Where and what his dwelling?

Sir he lives a good way hence,
Underneath the mountain;
Right against the forest fence,
By Saint Agnes' fountain:

Bring me food and bring me wine,
Bring me pine logs hither:
You and I will see him dine,
When we take them thither.

Page and monarch forth they went,
Forth they went together,
Through the wild wind's loud lament,
And the bitter weather.

Sir the night is darker now,
And the wind grows stronger;
Fails my heart - I know not how,
I can go no longer.

Mark my footsteps well my page,
Follow in them boldly:
You shall find the winter's rage,
Chills your blood less coldly.

In his masters steps he trod,
Where the snow lay even,
Strong to do the will of God,
In the hope of Heaven:
Therefore Christians all be sure,
Grace and wealth possessing,
You that now will bless the poor,
Shall yourselves find blessing.

Words: John Mason Neale.

Music from A-M Classical

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