Footsteps

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.

"Bring me flesh and bring me wine.  Bring me pine logs hither
Thou and I will 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

"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 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.