They come from far a king to seek,
They find a babe and maiden meek,
In low-roofed oxen stall:
Yet rightly richest gifts they bring,
For truly this Babe is King of all kings,
The God and Lord of all.
Bright gold one offers now to Him,
Whose glory makes the fine gold dim,
His kingly state to show;
And myrrh the bitter hour of strife,
When He, who giveth all things life,
In death’s dust lieth low.
One offers frankincense sweet and rare,
The symbol meet of praise and prayer,
Before the cradle-throne;
For surely God is in this place,
And in the blessèd Infant’s face
The might of God is shown.
Lord, grant us, as the kings of old,
By faith the glory to behold
Which Thy poor form doth veil;
Within the stable’s narrow bound
To know a spot of holy ground
And kneel our God to hail:
That, in dark shades of sinful night,
Since Thou dost call us to Thy light,
We may no longer roam;
But, lifting heart and eyes to Heav’n,
We follow the sign Thy love hath giv’n
Until the star leads us home!