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 for ever,

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

Breathes 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,

Heav'n sings Alle-

luia: Alle-

luia the earth replies.

Amen.