When that our gentle Lord was born,
And cradled in the hay,
There rode three wise men from the east—
Three rich wise men were they—
All in the starry night they came
Their homage gifts to pay.
They got them down from camel-back,
The cattle shed before,
And in the darkness vainly sought
A great latch on the door;
Ho, this is strange, quoth Balthazar,
Aye, strange, quoth Melchior.
I can find no hasp,;
Well hidden is the lock
The door, quoth Melchior,
And fast, our skill to mock
The little King
Might wake, we dare not knock.
The three wise men they sat them down
To wait for morning dawn,
The cunning wards of that old door
They thought and marveled on;
No gate in all the East
Hath bar-bolts tighter drawn.
Anon there came a little lad
With lambskins for the King,
He had no key, he raised no latch,
He touched no hidden spring,
But gently pushed the silent door
And open it gan swing.
A miracle! a miracle!
Cried out the wise men three;
A little child hath solved the locks
That could not opened be.
In wonder spake the shepherd lad,
It hath no locks, quoth he.