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.
Brethren, 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.