They Come from Far a King to Seek

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!