In his master's steps he trod...

I've been thinking a lot about King Wenceslas this year. Good King Wenceslas has always been one of my favorite Christmas carols (thanks to a lovely Bing Crosby album that we listened to all the time in my youth), but this year, I just can't stop whistling the tune and thinking through the lyrics. 

I sat at the piano on Sunday, as I am often wont to do, and Derek and Henry wandered over and began singing with me. With a bit of gentle persuasion and encouragement, we convinced Henry to sing as page and Derek as the good king. It was lovely--my boy's sweet soprano and Derek's confident baritone.; all my mom-of-boys dreams coming true. 

But it was about more than the lovely music.

If you haven't stopped to think about Good King Wenceslas, the story and the lyrics, I'd encourage you to do so. In the mean time, here's what I've been thinking about: 

The poor page. Just a boy, that the king has wrangled into carry food and fuel through the snow, in the dark, to help someone else. He's a willing servant, to be sure, but there are a few things that make it so meaningful: first, the king goes with him. He could have easily ordered the page to go himself and stayed at the feast, warm and cozy, eating his meal. Instead, he's sallying forth through the bitter cold, assisting the page. 

And then, second, the poor page starts to get cold. And frightened: "Fails my heart, I know not how, I can go no longer."

The good king doesn't say "all right, we'll do it another night when it's convenient," instead he encourages the little fellow to keep going and, here is my favorite bit this year, " Mark my footsteps, my good page, tread thou in them boldly. Thou shall find the winters rage freeze thy blood less coldly." Follow me, he says, step right where I step, and you'll be all right. 

I've watched this exact scenario play out with my own boys. Deep snow, it's cold, they're tired, and Derek encourages them along "step in my footprints," he'll say, "and then it won't be so hard." And it isn't. 

It's been marvelous to see my three sons do their best to emulate their dad. Whether it's stepping where he steps, using tools as he does, singing songs like he does, or helping our neighbors as he does. Derek's quite conscious of this fact--in serious as well as comic instances--and does his best to be a good example to them. And I just keep thinking about all the things I want my boys to be and do, and I am grateful they have such good examples to go before them. 

I've been asked to do a lot this year, as we all have. I've felt drained, fatigued, and, often, afraid. I think I've called out to my Heavenly Parents many times saying "I can't keep doing this! There's too much, I can go no longer."

We all know what Christ says: "Come, follow me." "Mark my footsteps." 

As I've thought about what Christ would do, especially this year, I think he would have pushed on, through the hard, continuing to care for those within His stewardship. He would have cared for Himself, too--bundling up against the cold in the case of our good king, and being sure He was prepared for the winter weather. And then when that was done, He would take what He has and bring it to those who have none. 

So this Christmas, this winter, perhaps we can take care to follow in the Master's footsteps. To trod where He trod, knowing all the time that we are going together. He certainly never leaves us comfortless, and He would never ask us to do something alone. 

He's been there through the pandemic, the confusion, the fear, and the long nights. Through the rude winds and the bitter weather. Sometimes, though, we need to look up from our own feet to see Him, to mark His footsteps, And then, even in the bitter cold, we'll find heat in the very sod where He has gone before us.  

Photo: Good King Wenceslas, by Horace Knowles

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
Gathering winter fuel

Hither, page, and stand by me,
If thou knowst 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 shall see him dine
When we bear them thither.
Page and monarch, forth they went
Forth they went together
Through the rude winds 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, good my page
Tread thou in them boldly
Thou shall find the winters rage
Freeze thy blood less coldly.

In his masters step 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.

--John Mason Neale, 1853