Good King Wenceslas





Good King Wen-ces-las looked out 
on the feast of Ste-phen 
When the snow lay round a-bout, 
deep and crisp and e-ven.  
Bright-ly shone the moon that night.  
Though the frost was cru-el, 
When a poor man came in sight, 
Gath'-ring win-ter fu--el.  

Hi-ther page, and stand by me, 
If thou know'st it tell-ing, 
Yon-der pea-sant who is he?  
Where and what his dwell-ing?  
Sire, he lives a good league hence, 
Un-der-neath the moun-tain; 
Right a-gainst the for-est fence, 
By St.  Ag-nes' foun--tain.  

Bring me flesh and bring me wine, 
bring me pine-logs hi-ther; 
Thou and I will see him dine, 
when we bear them thi-ther.  
Page and mon-arch forth they went, 
Forth they went to-geth-er; 
Through the rude wind's wild la-ment, 
And the bit-ter wea--ther.  

Sire, the night is dark-er now, 
And the wind blows strong-er; 
Fails my heart, I know not how, 
I can go no long-er.  
Mark my foot-steps Good My Page!  
Tread thou in them bold-ly:  
Thou shalt find the win-ter's rage 
Freeze thy blood less cold--ly.  

In his mas-ter's steps he trod, 
Where the snow lay dint-ed; 
Heat was in the ve-ry sod 
Which the saint had print-ed.  
There-fore Christ-ian men, be sure, 
Wealth or rank pos-sess-ing, 
Ye who now will bless the poor, 
Shall your-selves find bless--ing.


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