My mother tells me, as a small child, I always thought this carol was about me, and was disappointed I never actually got a feast. But forgive me, I was only 3!
St. Stephen, first Christian martyr, is celebrated in the Western Church on Boxing Day. Which is why we sing this hymn at Christmas. Although since I started reading them as poetry I’ve thought more and more that actually we should sing this one at any time of the year. It is simply an ode to a good man doing a good deed, in fact two good deeds and is a call to all of us to behave just like the Good King.
Upon seeing a poor man King Wenceslas calls his page and decides to dine with the man and make him warm.
The trip was rough, the wind was biting and the load was heavy, The King forged a path and the page followed. The page becomes tired and can carry on no more and begs the King to leave him behind. The King is having none of this and suggests the page follow in his footsteps to ease his passage and gain warmth from his steps.
When I read this over and over (and it is a delightful piece of poetry that trips off the tongue) I notice that it could be a metaphor for the struggles of our own journey. Yet there is Jesus, leading the way, showing us we must help those less fortunate, but never forgetting that we ourselves are fragile and in need of direction and comfort.
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 gath'ring winter fuel
"Hither, page, and stand by me 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 Saint Agnes' fountain."
"Bring me flesh and bring me wine, bring me pine logs hither
Thou and I will see him dine when we bear him 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, my good 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, Christian men, be sure. Wealth or rank possessing
Ye who now will bless the poor shall yourselves find blessing
Steve Fogo
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