Ascend Thy throne, almighty King,
And spread Thy glories all abroad:
Let Thine own arm salvation bring,
And be Thou known the gracious God.

Let millions bow before Thy seat,
Let humble mourners seek Thy face;
Bring daring rebels to Thy feet,
Subdued by Thy victorious grace.

O let the kingdoms of the world
Become the kingdoms of the Lord;
Let saints and angels praise Thy Name,
Be Thou through Heaven and earth adored.

Come, friends, sing, of the faith that’s so dear to me,
Revealed thro’ God’s Son, in Galilee;
He brought peace on earth and good will to the sons of men,
Go tell it to the world, her King reigns again.

Refrain

I am so happy in Jesus,
Captivity’s Captor is He;
Angels rejoice when a soul’s saved,
Some day we like Him shall be;
Sorrow and joy have the same Lord,
Valley of shadows shall sing;
Death has its life, its door opens in Heaven eternally,
Christ is King.

Crucified, thus He suffered and bled for me,
Death and the grave won sin’s victory;
Then the sky grew dark and the temple veil rent in twain,
Rocks rent, and angels came, for He lived again.

Refrain

At His feet, on old Olivet’s hill, they say,
Cloud chariots halted, took Christ away;
Then the angels came and to wond’ring disciples said,
“He’ll come, and earth and sea shall yield up their dead.”

Refrain

Christ, that ever reigneth, Christ, that here remaineth,
Christ, within us dwelling, Christ in praise excelling,
Him we proclaim, His glorious Name;
To our Creator render
Homage all due; lowly and true
Homage to Him we tender.

Heaven’s high host rejoices, lifting up all voices,
Jubilant with gladness—yet the earth with sadness
Dreading her fate God doth await
Who judgment strict revealeth;
Merciful power, save in that hour
Those whom Thy passion healeth!

Raise us, cleansed, to regions where the angel legions
Round Thee aye are soaring, with Thy saints adoring;
Grant us Thy peace, bid dangers cease,
And Thou, Thy mercy sending,
Christ, give us rest, where, with the blest,
Thy reign is never ending.

He comes! He comes! the Judge severe!
The seventh trumpet speaks Him near;
His lightnings flash, His thunders roll;
How welcome to the faithful soul!

From Heav’n angelic voices sound;
See the almighty Jesus crowned,
Girt with omnipotence and grace!
And glory decks the Savior’s face.

Descending on His great white throne,
He claims the kingdoms for His own;
The kingdoms all obey His Word,
And hail Him their triumphant Lord.

Shout, all the people of the sky,
And all the saints of the Most High;
Our Lord, who now His right obtains,
Forever and forever reigns.

Let the seventh angel sound on high,
Let shouts be heard through all the sky;
Kings of the earth, with glad accord,
Give up your kingdoms to the Lord.

Almighty God, Thy power assume,
Who wast, and art, and art to come:
Jesus, the Lamb who once was slain,
Forever live, forever reign!

The angry nations fret and roar,
That they can slay the saints no more
On wings of vengeance flies our God,
To pay the long arrears of blood.

Now must the rising dead appear;
Now the decisive sentence hear;
Now the dear martyrs of the Lord
Receive an infinite reward.

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,
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,
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,
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!
King of kings and Lord of lords!

Creation’s Lord, we give Thee thanks
That this Thy world is incomplete;
That battle calls our marshaled ranks;
That work awaits our hands and feet.

That Thou hast not yet finished man;
That we are in the making still,
As friends who share the Maker’s plan
As sons who know the Father’s will.

Beyond the present sin and shame,
Wrong’s bitter, cruel, scorching blight,
We see the beckoning vision flame,
The blessèd kingdom of the right.

What though the kingdom long delay,
And still with haughty foes must cope?
It gives us that for which to pray,
A field for toil and faith and hope.

Since what we choose is what we are,
And what we love we yet shall be,
The goal may ever shine afar—
The will to win it makes us free.