Even people who go to church only at Christmas will know the carol Good King Wenceslas. It has a cheerful, vigorous tune; it can easily be sung in parts for male and female voices, and it has a storyline with a message to us: that if we have plenty we should give to those less fortunate.
Royal Mail saw fit to advertise the carol with five stamps, showing scenes from the five verses, in December 1973, when it cost a mere 3p to send a card. But what surprised me was that the carol is unknown in Wenceslas’ homeland, the Czech Republic. Of course, they know the man – he’s their patron saint and Prague has a large square named after him.
A Prague guide says : ‘The first Czech saint and the patron saint of the Czech state, Wenceslas (Václav in Czech) served as Duke of Bohemia from 921 until his death in 929 or 935. Though he died young, assassinated by a pagan brother, this martyr’s accomplishments were many. He built numerous churches in Bohemia and was deeply respected as a pious, moral, educated and intelligent man who promoted the Christian faith and took care of the poor, the sick, the widowed and the orphaned by doing charitable deeds.’
So the carol commemorates him pretty accurately. Let’s hear it for Good Duke Václav!
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
Gathering winter fuel.
“Hither, page, and stand by
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 St Agnes’ fountain.“
“Bring me flesh and bring me wine
Bring me pine logs hither.
Thou and I will see him dine
When we bear them 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, good my 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, Christians all, be sure
Wealth or rank possessing
You who now will bless the poor
Shall yourselves find blessing.
