Filled with the Holy Spirit, [Stephen] gazed into heaven and saw the glory of God and Jesus standing at the right hand of God. “Look,” he said, “I see the heavens opened and the Son of Man standing at the right hand of God!” But they covered their ears, and with a loud shout all rushed together against him. Then they dragged him out of the city and began to stone him; and the witnesses laid their coats at the feet of a young man named Saul. While they were stoning Stephen, he prayed, “Lord Jesus, receive my spirit.” Then he knelt down and cried out in a loud voice, “Lord, do not hold this sin against them.” When he had said this, he died. (Acts 7:55-60)
Good King Wenceslas (traditional)
Arr. G. Gothard
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
Hither page and stand by me, if though knowst it telling
Yonder peasant who is he, where and what his dwelling
Sire he lives a good league hence, underneath the mountain
Right against the forest fence, by St. Agnes' fountain
Bring me bread and bring me wine, bring me pine logs hither
Thou and I will see him dine, when we bear them thither
Page and monarch forth they went, forth they went together
Through the rude winds 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 all you men be sure, wealth or rank possessing
He who know will bless the poor, shall yourselves find blessing
Good King Wenceslas (traditional)
Arr. G. Gothard
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
Hither page and stand by me, if though knowst it telling
Yonder peasant who is he, where and what his dwelling
Sire he lives a good league hence, underneath the mountain
Right against the forest fence, by St. Agnes' fountain
Bring me bread and bring me wine, bring me pine logs hither
Thou and I will see him dine, when we bear them thither
Page and monarch forth they went, forth they went together
Through the rude winds 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 all you men be sure, wealth or rank possessing
He who know will bless the poor, shall yourselves find blessing
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