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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

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