Crown Him with Many Crowns

Crown Him with many crowns,
The Lamb upon His throne;

Hark how the heav’nly anthem drowns
All music but its own.

Awake, my soul, and sing
Of Him who died for thee,

And hail Him as thy matchless King
Through all eternity.

Crown Him the virgin’s Son,
The God incarnate born,

Whose arm those crimson trophies won
Which now His brow adorn;

Fruit of the mystic rose,
Yet of that rose the stem,

The root whence mercy ever flows,
The babe of Bethlehem.

Crown Him the Lord of Love,
Behold His hands and side,

Rich wounds, which visible above,
In beauty glorified.

No angels in the sky
Can fully bear that sight,

But down-ward bends their wond’ring eyes
At mysteries so bright.

Crown Him the Lord of Life,
Who triumphed o’er the grave

And rose victorious in the strife
For those He came to save.

His glories now we sing,
Who died and rose on high,

Who died eternal life to bring
And lives that death may die.

Crown Him the Lord of heav’n,
Enthroned in worlds above,

Crown Him the King to whom is giv’n
The wondrous name of Love.

Crown Him with many crowns
As thrones before him fall;

Crown Him, ye kings, with many crowns,
For He is King of all.