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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 power 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 scorned 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!