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 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 raining,
Worship Him God most high.
Myrrh is mine, its bitter perfume
Breathes a life of gathering gloom;
Sorrowing, sighing, bleeding, dying,
Sealed in a stone-cold tomb.
Glorious now behold Him arise,
Kin and God and sacrifice,
Earth and heaven replies.