Good King Wenceslas look’d 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
Gath’ring winter fuel.
1st Singer: “Hither, page, come, stand by me,
If them know’st it telling,
Yonder peasant, who is he?
Where and what his dwelling?
2nd Singer: Sire, he lives a good league hence,
Down beneath the mountain:
Close against the forest fence,
By Saint Agnes’ fountain!”
Chorus – In his master’s steps he trod,
Where the snow lay dinted:
Heat was in the very sod
Which his foot had printed.
Therefore Christian men, be sure,
Wealth or rank possessing,
Ye who now do bless the poor,
Shall yourselves find blessing.
1st Singer: “Bring me flesh, and bring me wine,
Bring me pine logs hither:
Thou and I, we’ll see him dine,
When we bear them thither”
Chorus- Page and monarch, on they went,
On they went together:
Through the rude winds wild lament,
Through the bitter weather.
2nd Singer:”Sire the night is darker now,
And the storm grows stronger,
Fails my heart,! know not how,
I can go no longer.”
1st Singer- Mark my steps, be brave, my page:
_ Tread thou in them boldly;
Then thou’lt find the winter’s rage
Freeze thy blood less coldly.”