From the recording Winternight Whisperings
We three kings of Orient are Bearing gifts, we traverse afar. Field and fountain, moor and mountain, Following yonder star. O Star of Wonder, Star of Night, Star with Royal Beauty bright, Westward leading, Still proceeding, Guide us to Thy perfect Light. Born a King on Bethlehem plain, Gold I bring to crown Him again, King forever, ceasing never Over us all to reign. Frankincense to offer have I; Incense owns a Deity nigh: Prayer and praising, all men raising, Worship Him God on high. Myrrh is mine; its bitter perfume; Breathes a life of gathering gloom: Sorrowing, sighing, bleeding, dying, Sealed in the stone-cold tomb.