In his master's steps he trod, Where the snow lay dinted.
In his master's steps he trod, Where the snow lay dinted.
Good King Wenceslas looked out, On the Feast of Stephen; When the snow lay round about, Deep and crisp and even.
Christian dost thou see them; On the holy ground, How the troops of Midian; Prowl and prowl around; Christian up and smite them. Counting gain but loss; Smite them by the merit; Of the Holy Cross.
Art thou weary, art thou languid, Art thou sore distressed.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories