Commissioned by The Goldsmiths' Company
Our gold upon Thine altar lies;
Our prayers to Thee, as incense, rise;
Accept as myrrh our tears and sighs;
O King, O God, O Sacrifice.
Bright gold of Ophir, passing fine,
Proclaims a king of royal line;
For David's son in David's town,
Is born the heir of David's crown.
The incense clouds, with fragrance rare,
The presence of a God declare;
Lo! kings in adoration fall,
For Mary's Son is Lord of all.
by John Henry Hopkins