Because thou art so kind, I dare to think I may.
I bring the gold of faith, which, through the centuries long,
Still seeks the Holy Child, and worships at his feet,
And owns him for its Lord, with gladness deep and strong,
And joins the angel choir, singing in chorus sweet.
The frankincense I bear is worship which can rise,
Like perfume floating up higher and higher still,
Till on the wings of prayer it finds the far blue skies,
And falls, as falls the dew, to freshen heart and will.
And last I bring the myrrh, half bitter and half sweet,