Out from the Rising of the Sun

Out from the ris­ing of the sun

O’er tracts of de­sert wild

The Ma­gi came on jour­ney lone

To seek the Heav’n-born Child;

The star o’er­head their foot­steps led

And hope their way be­guiled.

They bore Him cost­ly gifts of gold

And myrrh and spic­es sweet:

For He is King

they had been told

Whom they would meek­ly greet;

And they would go

in rev­er­ence low

And wor­ship at His feet.

O hum­ble Child

in man­ger laid!

The wise be­held Thee there

And rev­er­ent­ly their hom­age paid

And gave their of­fer­ings rare.

Their quest was found

and to the ground

They bowed the head in pray­er.

O Je­su

who in man­ger lay

The Son of God most high

Let me my hum­ble hom­age pay

And bring my of­fer­ings nigh.

And hum­bly greet Thee at Thy feet

And low in wor­ship lie.