ALL:

Good King Wenceslas looked out,
upon 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.

KING:

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

PAGE:

Sir he lives a good way hence,
underneath the mountain;
right against the forest fence,
by Saint Agnes' fountain:

KING:

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

ALL:

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

PAGE:

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

KING:

Mark my footsteps well my page,
follow in them boldly:
you shall find the winter's rage,
chills your blood less coldly.

ALL:

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

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