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In the bleak midwinter, frost wind made moan,
earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone;
snow had fallen, snow on snow, snow on snow,
in the bleak midwinter, long ago.
Angels and archangels may have gathered there,
cherubim and seraphim thronged the air;
but his mother only, in her maiden bliss,
worshiped the beloved with a kiss.
What can I give him, poor as I am?
If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb;
If I were a Wise Man, would I do my part;
yet what I can I give him: give my heart.
In the bleak midwinter, frost wind made moan,
earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone;
if I were a Wise Man, would I do my part;
yet what I can I give him: give my heart.
