The wise men had opened their treasures,

They presented to him gold.

Their wealth and their possessions,

Giv’n to the King to hold!

The frankincense meant worship,

They gave into His Hand.

This was the very purpose

They came into his land!

But, oh! The myrrh of bitterness!

What meaning could it take?

Oh, it could only have but one,

What we suffer for His sake!

With these three things they travelled;

They left their royal place.

To bring the King their worship,

And bow before His Face!

The gold, the frankincense, the myrrh,

Each was a lovely thing,

But none could match the loveliness,

Of their mutual Object, the King!

Does any bring Him gold today?

Of precious THINGS let go?

Or are we all too closely tied

To common things we know?

Does any bring Him frankincense,

And worship at His Feet,

Enjoying precious time with Him,

Then for His service meet?

But, OH! Does any bring Him myrrh,

And suffer for Him here,

Knowing a better future waits,

And counting not life too dear?

Well, some will bring their gold to Him,

Their frankincense most sure.

But WHO will suffer for His sake?

OH, WHO will bring Him myrrh?