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The Lost Fingers
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We Three Kings
We three kings of Orient are
Bearing gifts we traverse afar.
Field and fountain, moor and mountain,
Following yonder star.
Born a king on Bethlehem's plain,
Gold I bring to crown Him again,
King forever, ceasing never
Over us all to reign.
O star of wonder, star of night,
Star of royal beauty bright,
Westward leading, still proceeding,
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 most high.
O star of wonder, star of night,
Star of royal beauty bright,
Westward leading, still proceeding,
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Guide us to thy perfect light.
Myrrh is mine: Its bitter perfume
Breathes a life of gathering gloom.
Sorrow, sighing, bleeding, dying,
Sealed in a stone-cold tomb.
Glorious now behold Him arise,
King and God and Sacrifice.
Alleluia, alleluia!
Earth to heav'n replies.
O star of wonder, star of night,
Star of royal beauty bright,
Westward leading, still proceeding,
Guide us to thy perfect light.
O star of wonder, star of night,
Star of royal beauty bright,
Westward leading, still proceeding,
Guiding us to thy perfect light.
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