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In his master’s steps he trod,
Where the snow lay dinted;
Heat was in the very sod
Which the Saint had printed.

— John Mason Neale

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More quotes by John Mason Neale

Brief life is here our portion,
Brief sorrow, short-lived care:
The Life that knows no ending,
The tearless Life, is there.

Good King Wenceslas look'd out
On the Feast of Stephen,
When the snow lay round about,
Deep, and crisp, and even.

Bring me flesh, and bring me wine,
Bring me pine-logs hither.

O come, O come, Emmanuel,
And ransom captive Israel.

All glory, laud, and honour
To Thee, Redeemer, King!
To Whom the lips of children
Made sweet Hosannas ring.

All John Mason Neale quotes →

Attribution

Quote text and notes from Wikiquote: John Mason Neale (page history), available under CC BY-SA 4.0. Source quality and labels are our own summary of what Wikiquote records.