VocalEssence Ensemble Singers, 2 trp, hn, trb, tuba

Good King Wenceslas look’d out
On the feast of Stephen
When the snow lay round about,
Deep and crisp and even.
Brightly shone the moon that night,
Tho’ the frost was cruel,
When a poor man came in sight
Gath’ring winter fuel.

“Hither, page, and stand by me
If thou knows’t 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 St. Agnes Fountain.”

“Bring me flesh and bring me wine,
Bring me pine logs hither,
Thou and I will see him dine
When we bear them thither.”
Page and monarch forth they went,
Forth they went together,
Thro’ 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.”

In his master’s step he trod
Where the snow lay dinted,
Heat was in the very sod
Which the saint had printed.
Therefore, Christian men, be sure,
Wealth or rank possessing,
Ye who now will bless the poor
Shall yourselves find blessing.
—John Mason Neale, 1853