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 breathes a life of gathering gloom; sorr'wing, sighing, bleeding, dying, sealed in the stonecold tomb.
Glorious now behold him arise, King and God and Sacrifice, alleluia, alleluia! Earth to heav'n replies.