St. Stephen reminds me of one of my favorite Christmas carols: "Good King Wenceslas."
In the famous carol, King Wenceslas spots a poor man on the "Feast of Stephen" (Dec 26) and instructs his page to bring meat and wine in order to bless the poor man.
It is a wonderful story-carol.
I love the tune because it inspires one to start singing.
The old fashioned words are beautiful. They are also challenging when the tune is sung at a lively pace.
Of course, I drag my whole family into the carol singing, too!
I love the part of the song when the page is weary and cold but Good King Wenceslas encourages him to keep going.
This is what happens:
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
Saint Wenceslas (d. 935) is a Catholic martyr known for his love for the poor and his secret night vigils before the altar of the Blessed Sacrament. The last line of the carol captures the intent of the song and the true example of Saint Wenceslas:
Therefore, Christian men, be sure
Wealth or rank possessing
Ye who now will bless the poor
Shall yourselves find blessing
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
Gath'ring winter fuel
"Hither, page, and stand by me
If thou know'st 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 Saint Agnes' fountain."
"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
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