From out Co­logne there came three kings
To wor­ship Je­sus Christ, their king.
To Him they sought, fine herbs they brought,
And many a beau­te­ous gold­en thing;
They brought their gifts to Beth­le­hem town,
And in that man­ger set them down.

Then spake the first king, and he said:
O Child, most hea­ven­ly, bright, and fair!
I bring this crown to Beth­le­hem town
For Thee, and on­ly Thee, to wear;
So give a hea­ven­ly crown to me
When I shall come at last to Thee!

The se­cond, then. I bring Thee here
This roy­al robe, O Child! he cried;
Of silk ’tis spun, and such an one
There is not in the world be­side;
So in the day of doom re­quite
Me with a hea­ven­ly robe of white!

The third king gave his gift, and quoth:
Spikenard and myrrh to Thee I bring,
And with these twain would I most fain
Anoint the bo­dy of my king;
So may their in­cense some­time rise
To plead for me in yon­der skies!

Thus spake the three kings of Co­logne,
That gave their gifts, and went their way;
And now kneel I in pray­er hard by
The cra­dle of the Child to­day;
Nor crown, nor robe, nor spice I bring
As of­fer­ing un­to Christ, my king.

Yet have I brought a gift the Child
May not des­pise, how­ev­er small;
For here I lay my heart to­day,
And it is full of love to all.
Take Thou the poor but loy­al thing,
My on­ly trib­ute, Christ, my king!