"Three kings" we call them, honoring
Their worldly wealth and powers;
And "wise men" by profession, for
Their grasp of heaven's hours;
Their never-disappointed craft
Misguided them; the heavens laughed,
And graced their star-eyed towers.
The way they plotted by their art
Was woven in God's plan;
Oh! to have sought the son of kings
And found the Son of Man.
Nor aberrant, nor comet,
Nor junction records show;
The ancient skies exhale a new
And strange, creative glow.
A star? she shames her sisters' sheens;
They know they know not what she means,
But more they do not know.
Great lights great lords should designate--
So reasoned they the sign.
Oh! to have looked for an earthly lord,
And found the Lord divine.
I lack their purity of heart,
Nor plead their ignorance;
The Truth they hailed when unreknowned
Is my inheritance--
Encouraged, blessed, and coward-souled,
Still bearing Him a little gold
And not the widow's pence.
Outwit me too, if you love me,
And make me miss my way,
God! that when lost I find what they found
By the star of night: the Day.