WAITING FOR THE KINGS
drop-capOverthe frozen plain snow-whiteThe three Kings will come tonight;We shall know by the kettle-drumsWhich way the procession comes.They have come from very far,Following fast behind a Star,In their shimmering robes of silk,Riding horses white as milk.They bring thro’ the starlit darkGold once hid in Noë’s Ark;They bear over snow and iceBags of musk and myrrh and spice.They have brought from the warm countreeCloves like nails from a blossoming tree,Flowers of a branch of a Tree that grewIn Eden when the world was new.They have heard of a wondrous thing,That here is born a little King;They bring treasures of great worthTo the Treasure of the earth.When we see the Kings ride past,Thro’ the silence white and vast,In the night will bloom, methinks,Velvet roses and striped pinks.When we see them all aglowRiding over leagues of snow,In their robes of red and gold,We shall never feel the cold.We will print upon the giftsThey have borne thro’ the snow-drifts,Thro’ the bitter weather wild,Kisses for the little Child.
drop-capOverthe frozen plain snow-whiteThe three Kings will come tonight;We shall know by the kettle-drumsWhich way the procession comes.They have come from very far,Following fast behind a Star,In their shimmering robes of silk,Riding horses white as milk.They bring thro’ the starlit darkGold once hid in Noë’s Ark;They bear over snow and iceBags of musk and myrrh and spice.They have brought from the warm countreeCloves like nails from a blossoming tree,Flowers of a branch of a Tree that grewIn Eden when the world was new.They have heard of a wondrous thing,That here is born a little King;They bring treasures of great worthTo the Treasure of the earth.When we see the Kings ride past,Thro’ the silence white and vast,In the night will bloom, methinks,Velvet roses and striped pinks.When we see them all aglowRiding over leagues of snow,In their robes of red and gold,We shall never feel the cold.We will print upon the giftsThey have borne thro’ the snow-drifts,Thro’ the bitter weather wild,Kisses for the little Child.
drop-capOverthe frozen plain snow-whiteThe three Kings will come tonight;We shall know by the kettle-drumsWhich way the procession comes.
drop-cap
Overthe frozen plain snow-white
The three Kings will come tonight;
We shall know by the kettle-drums
Which way the procession comes.
They have come from very far,Following fast behind a Star,In their shimmering robes of silk,Riding horses white as milk.
They have come from very far,
Following fast behind a Star,
In their shimmering robes of silk,
Riding horses white as milk.
They bring thro’ the starlit darkGold once hid in Noë’s Ark;They bear over snow and iceBags of musk and myrrh and spice.
They bring thro’ the starlit dark
Gold once hid in Noë’s Ark;
They bear over snow and ice
Bags of musk and myrrh and spice.
They have brought from the warm countreeCloves like nails from a blossoming tree,Flowers of a branch of a Tree that grewIn Eden when the world was new.
They have brought from the warm countree
Cloves like nails from a blossoming tree,
Flowers of a branch of a Tree that grew
In Eden when the world was new.
They have heard of a wondrous thing,That here is born a little King;They bring treasures of great worthTo the Treasure of the earth.
They have heard of a wondrous thing,
That here is born a little King;
They bring treasures of great worth
To the Treasure of the earth.
When we see the Kings ride past,Thro’ the silence white and vast,In the night will bloom, methinks,Velvet roses and striped pinks.
When we see the Kings ride past,
Thro’ the silence white and vast,
In the night will bloom, methinks,
Velvet roses and striped pinks.
When we see them all aglowRiding over leagues of snow,In their robes of red and gold,We shall never feel the cold.
When we see them all aglow
Riding over leagues of snow,
In their robes of red and gold,
We shall never feel the cold.
We will print upon the giftsThey have borne thro’ the snow-drifts,Thro’ the bitter weather wild,Kisses for the little Child.
We will print upon the gifts
They have borne thro’ the snow-drifts,
Thro’ the bitter weather wild,
Kisses for the little Child.
R. L. Gales