Three kings from out the Or­ient
For Ju­dah’s land were fair­ly bent
To find the Lord of grace;
And as they jour­neyed plea­sant­lie,
A star kept shin­ing in the sky,
To guide them to the place.

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O Star, they cried, by all con­fest,
Withouten dreed the love­li­est!

The first was Mel­chi­or to see,
The em­per­or hight of Ar­abye,
An ag­èd man, I trow;
He set up­on a roun­cy bold,
Had tak­en of the red, red gold,
The Babe for to en­dow.

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The next was Gas­par, young and gay,
That held the realm of far Ca­thay—
Our Je­sus drew him thence—
Yclad in silks from head to heel,
He rode up­on a high ca­meel,
And bar the frank­in­cense.

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The last was du­sky Bal­tha­sar,
That rode up­on a dro­me­dar—
His coat was of the fur;
Dark-browed he came from Sam­ar­kand,
The Christ to seek, and in his hand
Upheld the bleed­ing myrrh.

Refrain