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 Tree

As of that Tree the Stem;

The Root whence flows Thy mercy free

The Babe of Bethlehem.

Crown Him the Lord of Love:

Behold His hands and side;

Rich wounds yet visible above

In beauty glorified:

No angel in the sky

Can fully bear that sight

But downward bends his burning eye

At mysteries so bright.

Crown Him the Lord of peace

Whose power a scepter sways

From pole to pole

that wars may cease

And all be prayer and praise.

His reign shall know no end

And round His pierced feet

Fair flowers of glory now extend

Their fragrance ever sweet.

Crown Him the Lord of years

The Potentate of time.

Creator of the rolling spheres

Ineffably sublime.

All hail

Redeemer

hail!

For Thou hast died for me;

Thy praise shall never

never fail

Throughout eternity.