We three kings of Orient are;
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Bearing gifts we traverse afar,
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Field and fountain, moor and mountain,
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Following yonder star.
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O star of wonder, star of light
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Star with royal beauty bright,
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Westward leading, still proceeding,
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Guide us to thy perfect light.
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Born a King on Bethlehem's plain
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Gold I bring to crown Him again,
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King forever, ceasing never,
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Over us all to reign.
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Frankincense to offer have I;
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Incense owns a Deity nigh;
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Prayer and praising, voices raising,
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Worshipping God on high.
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Myrrh is mine,
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Its bitter perfume
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Breathes a life of gathering gloom;
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Sorrowing, sighing, bleeding, dying,
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Sealed in the stone cold tomb.
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Glorious now behold Him arise;
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King and God and sacrifice;
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Alleluia, Alleluia,
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Sounds through the earth and skies.
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We Three Kings
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| Paul Brandt |
