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Song: John H. Hopkins.
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 rein.
Chorus
Frankincense to offer have I,
Incense owns a Deity nigh.
Pray’r and praising, all men raising,
Worship Him, God most high.
Chorus
Myrrh is mine, its bitter perfume,
Breathes of life of gathering gloom.
Sorrowing, sighing, bleeding, dying,
Sealed in the stone-cold tomb.
Chorus
Glorious now behold Him arise,
King and God and Sacrifice.
Alleluia, Alleluia,
Earth to heav’n replies.
Chorus
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