The kings of the east are rid­ing
Tonight to Beth­le­hem;
The sun­set glows di­vid­ing,
The kings of the east are rid­ing,
A star their jour­ney guid­ing,
Gleaming with gold and gem.
The kings of the east are rid­ing
Tonight to Beth­le­hem.

To a strange sweet harp of Zi­on
The star­ry host troops forth:
The gold­en-glaived Ori­on
To a strange sweet harp of Zi­on,
The Arch­er and the Li­on,
The Watch­er of the north:
To a strange sweet harp of Zi­on
The star­ry host sweeps forth.

There beams above a man­ger
The child-face of a star;
Amid the stars a stran­ger,
It beams ab­ove a man­ger,
What means this eth­er-rang­er
To pause where poor folk are?
There beams above a man­ger
The child-face of a star.