Crown Him With Many Crowns

Höfundur lags: Godfrey Thring Sent inn af: Anonymous
[D]Crown Him with [Bm]many [G]crowns, the [D]Lamb up[G]on   [D]His [A]throne;
Hark [D]how the [Bm]heav'nly [E]anthem [A]drowns, all [D]music [E]but it's [A]own!
[A7]Awa   [D]ke my soul and [G]sing, [B7]of    [E]Him who died for t[A]hee,
[A7]And    [D]hail Him [G]as thy [A7]matchless [D]King through [G]all et[A7]erni   [D]ty.  

[D]Crown Him the [Bm]Lord of l[G]ife, who [D]triumphed [G]o'er [D]the [A]grave,
And [D]rose vic[Bm]torious [E]in the [A]strife, for [D]those He [E]came to [A]save:
[A7]His    [D]glories now we [G]sing, [B7]who    [E]died and rose on [A]high;
[A7]Who    [D]died et[G]ernal [A7]life to [D]bring, and [G]lives that [A7]death may [D]die.

[D]Crown Him the [Bm]Lord of [G]love; be[D]hold His [G]hands [D]and [A]side,
Those [D]wounds yet [Bm]visib[E]le a[A]bove, in [D]beauty [E]glorif[A]ied:
[A7]No    [D]angel in the [G]sky [B7]can    [E]fully bear that si[A]ght,
[A7]But    [D]downward [G]bends His [A7]burning [D]eye at [G]myster[A7]ies so [D]bright.

[D]Crown Him the [Bm]Lord of [G]peace, whose [D]power a [G]scep[D]tre [A]sways,
From [D]pole to [Bm]pole, that [E]wars may [A]cease, and [D]all be [E]prayer and [A]praise:
[A7]His    [D]reign shall know no [G]end, [B7]and    [E]round His pierced [A]feet,
[A7]Fair [D]flowers of [G]para[A7]dise ex[D]tend, their [G]fragrance [A7]ever s[D]weet.

[D]Crown Him the [Bm]Lord of [G]years, the [D]Potent[G]ate o[D]f t  [A]ime,
Cre[D]ator [Bm]of the [E]rolling [A]spheres, ine[D]ffab[E]ly subl[A]ime!
[A7]All    [D]hail, Redeemer, [G]hail! [B7]For    [E]Thou hast died for [A]me;  
[A7]Thy    [D]praise shall [G]never, [A7]never [D]fail through[G]out et[A7]erni   [D]ty.  

Crown Him with many crowns, the Lamb upon His throne;
Hark how the heav'nly anthem drowns, all music but it's 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 life, who triumphed o'er the grave,
And rose victorious in the strife, for those He came to save:
His glories now we sing, who died and rose on high;
Who died eternal life to bring, and lives that death may die.

Crown Him the Lord of love; behold His hands and side,
Those 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 sceptre sways,
From pole to pole, that wars may cease, and all be prayer and praise:
His reign shall know no end, and round His pierced feet,
Fair flowers 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.

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