At the name of Jesus,
Every knee shall bow,
Every tongue confess Him
King of glory now;
’Tis the Father’s pleasure
We should call Him Lord,
Who from the beginning
Was the mighty Word.
Humbled for a season,
To receive a name
From the lips of sinners
Unto whom He came;
Faithfully He bore it
Spotless to the last,
Brought it back victorious,
When from death He passed.
Bore it up triumphant
With its human light,
Through all ranks of creatures
To the central height,
To the throne of Godhead,
To the Father’s breast,
Filled it with the glory
Of that perfect rest.
In your hearts enthrone Him;
There let Him subdue
All that is not holy,
All that is not true;
Crown Him as your Captain
In temptation’s hour,
Let His will enfold you
In its light and power.
Brothers, this Lord Jesus
Shall return again,
With His Father’s glory,
With His angel-train;
For all wreaths of empire
Meet upon His brow,
And our hearts confess Him
King of glory now.
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