We bring no rich gifts like the wise men of old;
No myrrh and frankincense, no silver and gold;
No glittering treasures afar do we bring
To lay at the feet of our glorious King.
The songs the glad shepherds heard ages ago
Have melted away like the flakes of the snow;
The costly gifts glittered to molder and rust;
The Bethlehem manger has crumbled to dust.
His voice like the breath of the lilies so fair
Has floated away on the wings of the air;
And the places He trod, whether pathway or street,
Are hallowed no more by the prints of His feet.
We bring no rich gifts like the wise men of old;
No myrrh and frankincense, no silver and gold;
We go not to worship o'er Judea's plain
The King who was born through all ages to reign.
For reigning in heavenly glory arrayed,
He wants not earth's gifts, that but glitter to fade
Her gold would be dim by those pavements so fair;
Her incense a cloud in that glorified air.
But dearer the hearts full of love that we bring,
And sweeter our prayers to our glorious King,
Than all the rich gifts that they brought Him of old;
Than myrrh and frankincense, than silver and gold.
And the throne where He reigneth shall never decay,
Though the heavens and earth shall have vanished away;
And the hearts that we bring in His temple shall shine,
When melted, like all the bright gold of the mine.
So, we bring no gifts like the wise men of old;
No myrrh and frankincense, no silver and gold,
And go not to worship o'er Judea's plain
The King now enthroned in a heavenly fane.
