The Ma­gi came from lands afar,
Led by the guid­ance of a star,
They jour­neyed on to Beth­le­hem,
To seek the Sav­ior, born for them.

And there in hum­ble cot­tage-home,
Unto the hea­ven­ly Child they come;
And low be­fore Him bend the knee
In love and deep hu­mi­li­ty.

Nor do they come with emp­ty hands—
They bring the trea­sure of their lands;
Their cost­li­est gifts they of­fer thence
Of gold and myrrh and frank­in­cense.

They sought the Light, in dark­ness drear,
And lo, the morn broke full and clear;
The ve­ry Light of Light they see,
Though hid­den in ob­scu­ri­ty.

Jesus, our guid­ing star, be nigh
Throughout our life, and when we die,
To lead us safe­ly in the way
Which ends at last in per­fect day!