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In the bleak midwinter, frosty wind made moan
Earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone
Snow had fallen, snow on, snow on snow
In the bleak midwinter, long, long ago
Angels and archangels may have traveled there
Cherubim and Seraphim thronged the air
But only his Mother, in her maiden bliss
Worshiped the beloved with a kiss
What can I give him, poor as I am?
If I were a shepherd, I would give a lamb
If I were a wise man, I would do my part
But what can I give him? Give him my heart
But what can I give him? Give him my heart