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, I would do my part
Yet what I can I give him:give my heart