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, Voices Raising,
Worshiping God On High.

Myrrh Is Mine, Its Bitter Perfume
Breathes A Life Of Gathering Gloom;
Sorr’wing, 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.