Rise, Brothers, rise, the star has shone
to light us to our King.
Come haste to fall before his throne
your choicest treasures bring.
This is the star that conquer'd night
and shed a living ray:
'Tis this that guided, by its light
the Gentiles into day.
'Tis this will show you where your King,
an infant lowly lies,
Although his praises Angels sing
along the vaulted sky.
Your hidden treasures then unfold,
your dearest gifts impart,
He asks no beams of burnish's gold,
He only asks your heart.
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