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1.Good King Wenceslas looked out,On the feast of Stephen,
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When the snow lay round about,Deep and crisp and even.
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Brightly shone the moon that night,Though the frost was cru - el,
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When a poor man came in sight,Gathering winter fu - el.
2."Hither, page, and stand by me,If though knowest it telling,
Yonder poor man, 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."
3."Bring me flesh, and bring me wine,Bring me pinelogs hither:
Thou and I shall see him dine,When we bear him thither."
Page and monarch, forth they went,Forth they went together;
Through the rude wind's wild lament And the bitter weather.
4."Sire, the night is darker now,And the wind grows 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 rageFreeze thy blood less coldly."
5.In his master's steps 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.
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