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 might,
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Star with royal beauty bright,
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Westward leading, still proceeding,
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Guide us to the perfect light.
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Born a babe on Bethlehem's plain;
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Gold we 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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Chorus
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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, all men raising,
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Worship Him, God on High.
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Chorus
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Myrrth is mine; its bitter ferfume
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Breathes a life of gathering gloom
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Sorrowing, sighing, bleeding, dying
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Sealed
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Chorus
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Glorious Now behold Him arise
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King and God, and sacrifice
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Heaven sings Alleuia
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Alleuia the Earth replies
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We three kings
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| Bing Crosby |
