Without Regret

We three kings of Orient are Bearing gifts we traverse afar Field and Fountain, moor and mountain Following yonder star Oh, star of wonder, star of night Star with royal beauty bright Westward leading, still proceeding Guide us to thy perfect light Myrrh is mine, it's bitter perfume Breaths a life of gathering gloom Sorrowing, sighing, bleeding dying Sealed in the stone-cold tomb Oh, star of wonder, star of night Star with royal beauty bright Westward leading, still proceeding Guide us to thy perfect light