Good King Wenceslas Looked Out
On The Feast Of Stephen,
When The Snow Lay Round About,
Deep And Crisp And Even.
Brightly Shown 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 Knowst It Telling:
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.

Sire, The Night Is Darker Now,
And The Wind Blows Stronger.
Fails My Heart, I Know Not How.
I Can Go No Longer.
Lark My Footsteps My Good Page,
Tread Thou In Them Boldly;
Thou Shalt Find The Winter’s Rage
Freeze The Blood Less Coldly.

In His Master’s Step He Trod,
Where The Snow Lay Dented.
Heat Was In The Very Sod
Which The Saint Had Printed.
Therefore, Christian Men, Rejoice,
Wealth Or Rank Possessing,
Ye Who Now Will Bless The Poor
Shall Yourselves Find Blessing.

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Christmas Songs, Best Christmas Songs,

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