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 fuel

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 my good page

Tread thou in them boldly

Thou shalt find the winter's rage

Freeze thy blood less coldly

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

Ye who now will bless the poor

Shall yourselves find blessing

We three kings of Orient are

Bearing gifts we traverse afar

Field and fountain moor and mountain

Following yonder star

O Star of wonder star of night

Star with royal beauty bright

Westward leading still proceeding

Guide us to thy Perfect Light

Angels we have heard on high

Sweetly swinging o'er the plains

And the mountains in reply

Echoing their joyous strains

Gloria In Excelsis Deo