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|Gathering winter few||In his master's steps he trod|Where the snow lay dented|Heat was in the very sod|Which the saint had printed||Therefore Christian men be sure|Wealth or rank possessing|Me who now will bless the poor|Shall yourselves find blessing