In the bleak midwinter frosty 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 Worshipped 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 can I give him? Give my heart, give my heart