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Julesange af Thomas Helmore

Good King Wenceslas

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 food and bring me wine Bring me pine logs hither Thou and I will see him

O kom, O kom, Immanuel

O kom, o kom, Immanuel, forløs dit fangne Israel i pinefuld landflygtighed langt fra dit åsyns herlighed. O fryd! o fryd! Immanuel vil komme til dig, Israel. O kom, du skud af Isaj, hør, riv byttet ud af løvens klø’r, fra gravens mørke dyb os fri, fra Helveds gru og tyranni! O fryd! o fryd! Immanuel vil komme til dig, Israel. O kom, du solopgang, o kom, du sjæles lys og lægedom, fordriv al nattemørkets gru, vort gravdyb gennemtrænge du! O fryd! o fryd! Immanuel vil komme til dig, Israel. O kom med Davids-nøglen hid, gør kongeporten høj og vid,

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