A cold coming we heard of it
The soundly still time o’year ’twas
When the wind blows high
And yearning hearts draw high
Of grave wise men we heard
Generations of Light gone by
Priest and Shepherd of a rugged heard
We heard of him
Told to us by the wilder’ wonderer
A princely gift in manger wrapped
Awaited with prickly sickles for plunder
Like locust laying wreath to law
Death by bloody beasts of a jealous lord
A cold coming we knew of him
By ourselves done not’d better
Conscience torn, our spirits wither
Guilt-laden for the murder of him
What then shall my penitence be
An offer of peace
For the transgressions of me?
Shining petals of millions sparks allure
Sweetly scented herbs for fur
Dash of spice to soothe the palate
“Nay!, Nay!” ’Tis finished he says
My filth coat washed white
By his death victory obtained
By his pain my mercy given
Of the eternal Father of Light
Let the billows roll if they must
Let the mountains threaten to crush
My river’s course stream assured
Be then the reason for my season
My hope for a new beginning
Still then your hands O priest
Tonight my pot blazes a-new
My ransom feast for friends be
