Look, ye saints, the sight is glor'ous; See the Man of Sorrows now; From the fight returned victor'ous Ev'ry knee to Him shall bow; Crown Him, Crowns become the Victor's brow. Crown the Saviour, angels, crown Him, Rich the trophies Jesus brings; In the seat of pow'r enthrone Him, While the heav'nly conclave rings: Crown Him, Crown the Saviour King of kings. Hark! those bursts of acclamation! Hark! those loud triumphant chords! Jesus takes the highest station; Oh, what joy the sight affords! Crown Him, King of kings, and Lord of lords.