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!
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 Him! Crown Him!
Crown the Saviour, King of kings!

Sinners in derision crowned Him,
Mocking thus the Saviour’s claim;
Saints and angels throng around Him,
Own His title, praise His name:
Crown Him! Crown Him!
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!
Crown Him! Crown Him!
King of kings, and Lord of lords!