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.
Enough for Him, Whom cherubim, worship night and day, A breastful of milk, and a mangerful of hay; Enough for Him, Whom angels fall down before, The ox and ass and camel which adore.
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, I would do my part; Yet what I can I give him: give my heart. Give my heart.
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