We three kings of Orient are; bearing gifts we traverse a-far field and fountain, moor and mountain, following yonder star. O-oh star of wonder, star of light, 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, voices raising, worshipping 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: Alleluia, Alleluia sounds through the earth and skies. End
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