Good King Wenceslas

Good King Wenceslaus 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, and stand by me
If thou knowest, tell me
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 shall see him dine
When we bear them thither"

Page and monarch, forth they went
Forth they went together
Through the rude winds wild lament
And the bitter weather

"Sire, the night is darker
And the wind blows stronger
Fails 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 every one be sure
Wealth or rank possessing
Ye who now shall bless the poor
Shall yourselves find blessing