We three kings of orient are
Bearing gifts we travel so far
Field and fountain moor and mountain
Following yonder star
Born a baby on Bethlehem’s plain
Gold we bring to crown Him a King
King forever ceasing never
Over us all to reign
O star of wonder, star of light
Star with royal beauty bright
Westward leading still proceedings
Guide us to thy perfect light
Frankincense to offer have I
Incense owns a deity nigh
Prayer and praising all men raising
Worship him 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
