Cold is the winter - and harsh is the storm
That is swirling outside of our door
We draw to the hearth of this cabin so warm
Vow never to leave here no more
We cleave to our family and loved ones so dear
And hold to the fireside so bright
When a shrouded voice calling for help we do hear
And a figure appears in the night
Dark is the forest and long is the path
Of this pilgrim we're longing to see
The way of his travel is clear now at last
The face in the window is me
