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 Savior! Angels, crown Him!
  Rich the trophies Jesus brings;
In the seat of pow’r enthrone Him,
  While the vault of heaven rings:
Crown Him! Crown Him!
  Crown Him! Crown Him!
  Crown the Savior King of kings.

Sinners in derision crowned Him,
  Mocking thus the Savior’s claim;
Saints and angels crowd 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!