Crown Him with many crowns

Verse 1

Crown him with many crowns,
The Lamb upon his throne;
Hark! how the heavenly 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 Rose
 As of that Rose the Stem:
The Root, whence mercy ever flows,--
 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,
Absorbed in prayer and praise:
his reign shall know no end,
And round his pierced feet
Fair flowers of paradise extend
Their fragrance ever sweet.