At the name of Jesus
Every knee shall bow
Every tongue confess Him
King of glory now
'Tis the Father's pleasure
We should call Him Lord
Who from the beginning
Was the mighty Word
Humbled for a season
To receive a name
From the lips of sinners
Unto whom He came
Faithfully He bore it
Spotless to the last
Brought it back victorious
When from death He passed
Bore it up triumphant
With its human light
Through all ranks of creatures
To the central height
To the throne of Godhead
To the Father's breast
Filled it with the glory
Of that perfect rest
| |
In your hearts enthrone Him;
There let Him subdue
All that is not holy
All that is not true
Crown Him as your Captain
In temptation's hour
Let His will enfold you
In its light and power
Brothers, this Lord Jesus
Shall return again
With His Father's glory
With His angel-train
For all wreaths of empire
Meet upon His brow
And our hearts confess Him
King of glory now
|
