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In the bleak midwinter, frosty 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.
Oh what can I give him, poor as I am?
If I were a shepherd, would I bring a lamb
if I were a Wise Man, would I do my part
yet what I can I give him: give my heart
