We three kings of Orient are
Field and fountain, morr and mountain, Foliowing yonder Star.
0, star of wonder, star of night,Star with royal beauty bright,
Westward leading, still proceeding, Guide us to the perfect light.
Born a babe (king) on Bethlehem's plain;
Gold we bring to crown Him again;
King forever, ceasing never, Over us all to reign.
Frankincense to offer have l;Incense owns a Deity nigh;
Prayer and prasing, all men raising,
Worship Him, God on High.
Myrrh is mine; its bitter perfume
Breathes a life of gathering gloom.
Sorrowing sighing. bleeding. dying. Seal'd in the stone-cold tomb.