LOOK, YE SAINTS, THE SIGHT IS GLORIOUS;

Look, ye saints, the sight is glorious;
See the Man of Sorrows now;
From the fight returned victorious,
Every 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 power 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.

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