Behold He Comes!

Behold He comes! the glo­ri­ous King

Whom once a cross up­bore;

Let saints re­deemed His prais­es sing

And an­gel hosts adore.

The reed

the pur­ple

and the thorn

Are lost in tri­umph now;

His per­son robes of light adorn

And crowns of gold His brow.

Dear Lord

no more des­pised

dis­owned

A vic­tim bound and slain;

But in the pow­er of God en­throned

Thou dost re­turn to reign.

To Thee the world its trea­sure brings;

To Thee its migh­ty bow;

To Thee the Church ex­ult­ing springs;

Her So­ver­eign

Sav­ior Thou!

Beneath Thy touch

be­neath Thy smile

New heav’ns and earth ap­pear;

No sin their beau­ty to de­file

Nor dim them with a tear.

Thrice hap­py hour! and those thrice-blest

That ga­ther round Thy throne!

They share the hon­ors of Thy rest

Who have Thy con­flict known.