We three kings of Orient are,
Bearing gifts we traverse afar,
Field and fountain, moor and mountain,
Following yonder star.
O Star of Wonder, Star of Night,
Star with royal beauty bright,
Westward leading, still proceeding,
Guide us to thy perfect light.
Born a king on Bethlehem’s plain,
Gold I bring to crown him again,
King forever, ceasing never
Over us all to reign.
Frankincense to offer have I,
Incense owns a Deity nigh;
Prayer and praising all men raising,
Worship Him, God on high.
Myrrh is mine; Its bitter perfume
Breaths a life of gathering gloom;
Sorrowing, sighing, bleeding, dying,
Sealed in the stone-cold tomb.
Glorious now behold Him arise,
King, and God and sacrifice.
Heaven sing: ‘Alleluia’;
‘Alleluia’ the earth replies.