Crown Him with Many Crowns
Matthew Bridges, 1851

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 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 pow’r a scepter sways
from pole to pole, that wars may cease, absorbed in prayer and praise:
his reign shall know no end; and round his pierced feet
fair flow’rs of paradise 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.