Good King Wenceslas 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, gath'ring winter fuel.
"Hither, page, and stand by me, if thou know'st it, telling, yonder peasant, who is he? Where and what his dwelling?"
Page and monarch forth they went, forth they went together. Through the rude wind's wild lament, and the bitter weather.
"Sire, the night is darker now, and the wind blows stronger. Fails my heart, I know not how, I can go no longer."
"Mark my footsteps, good my page, tread thou in them boldly. Thou shalt find the winter's rage, freeze thy blood less coldly."
Therefore, Christian men, be sure, wealth or rank possessing, ye who now will bless the poor, shall yourselves find blessing.
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The holly and the ivy, when they are both full grown...
Of all the trees that are in the wood, the holly bears the crown.
The rising of the sun...
And the running of the deer...
The playing of the merry organ...
Sweet singing in the choir.
And Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ, to be our sweet Saviour.
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