Look, ye saints, the sight is glorious;
See the Man of Sorrows now;
From the fight returned victorious,
Ev'ry knee to him shall bow:
Crown him! crown him!
Crowns become the Victor's brow.
Crown the Saviour, angels, crown him;
Rich the trophies Jesus brings;
In the seat of pow'r enthrone him,
While the vault of heaven rings:
Crown him! crown him!
Crown the Saviour King of kings.
Sinners in derision crowned him
Mocking thus the Saviour's claim;
Saints and angels crowd around him,
Own his title, praise his Name:
Crown him! crown him!
Spread abroad the Victor's fame!
Hark! those bursts of acclamation!
Hark! those loud triumphant chords!
Jesus takes the highest station;
O what joy the sight affords!
Crown him! crown him!
King of kings, and Lord of lords.