Gold, and frankincense, and myrrh,
Gave each regal worshiper,
Seeing, in the Babe divine,
Answer of the heavenly sign.
Lo! again the star appears,
Shining through our griefs and fears,—
Dayspring of the desolate—
Heaven stoops down to our estate!
By the path the wise men trod,
Seek we, too, th’ incarnate God;
Blessed goal, where ends all strife:
Christ, the Way, the Truth, the Life.
Kneeling where the Magi knelt,
Feeling what the Magi felt,—
Of all nations the Desire,
Lord, to thee our souls aspire.
Hasten, heart of mine, to bring
From thy store fit offering;
Be a royal worshiper:
Gold, and frankincense, and myrrh!
GOOD FRIDAY.
O outcast Christ, rejected King!
O Man of sorrows, slain for me,
Accept a sinner’s offering—
A thankful heart that clings to thee.
The purple robe, the taunt, the sneer,
The crown of thorns, the scourge, the cross!
Remembering these, O Saviour dear,
I gladly reckon all things loss.
Could grief of mine make meet redress
For those dark hours of deepest woe,
O Lamb of God! O Prince of Peace!
My tears for evermore should flow.