We three kings of Orient are;
Bearing gifts we traverse afar,
Field and fountain, moor and mountain,
Following yonder star the star.
Born a King on Bethlehems plain
Gold I bring to crown Him again,
King forever, ceasing never,
Over us all to reign.
O star of wonder, star of night,
Star with royal beauty bright,
Westward leading, still proceeding,
Guide us to thy perfect light.
Frankincense to offer have I;
Incense owns a Deity nigh;
Prayer and praising, voices raising,
Woworshiping God on high.
Myrrh is mine, its bitter perfume
Breathes a life of gathering gloom;
Sorrwing, sighing, bleeding, dying,
Sealed in the stone cold tomb.
Glorious now behold Him arise;
King and God and sacrifice;
Earth to heaven replies.