Solemnity of Christ the King, one day late

Crown Him with many crowns, the Lamb upon His throne.
Hark! How the heavenly anthem drowns all music but its 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 virgin’s Son, the God incarnate born,
Whose arm those crimson trophies won which now His brow adorn;
Fruit of the mystic rose, as of that rose the stem;
The root whence mercy ever flows, the Babe of Bethlehem.

Crown Him the Son of God, before the worlds began,
And ye who tread where He hath trod, crown Him the Son of Man;
Who every grief hath known that wrings the human breast,
And takes and bears them for His own, that all in Him may rest.

Crown Him the Lord of life, who triumphed over 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 peace, Whose power a scepter sways
From pole to pole, that wars may cease, and all be prayer and praise.
His reign shall know no end, and round His piercèd feet
Fair flowers of paradise extend their fragrance ever sweet.

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 Heaven, enthroned in worlds above,
Crown Him the King to Whom is given the wondrous name of Love.
Crown Him with many crowns, as thrones before Him fall;
Crown Him, ye kings, with many crowns, for He is King of all.

Crown Him the Lord of lords, who over all doth reign,
Who once on earth, the incarnate Word, for ransomed sinners slain,
Now lives in realms of light, where saints with angels sing
Their songs before Him day and night, their God, Redeemer, King.

Crown Him the Lord of years, the Potentate of time,
Creator of the rolling spheres, ineffably sublime.
All hail, Redeemer, hail! For Thou has died for me;
Thy praise and glory shall not fail throughout eternity.

So many saints. So few feastdays. Hooray for All Saints!

Hark! the sound of holy voices, chanting at the crystal sea,
Alleluia! Alleluia! Alleluia! Lord, to Thee;
Multitude, which none can number, like the stars in glory stand
Clothed in white apparel, holding palms of victory in their hand.

Patriarch, and holy prophet, who prepared the way of Christ
King, apostle, saint, confessor, martyr and evangelist;
Saintly maiden, godly matron, widows who have watched to prayer
Joined in holy concert, singing to the Lord of all, are there.

They have come from tribulation, and have washed their robes in blood,
Washed them in the blood of Jesus; tried they were, and firm they stood;
Mocked, imprisoned, stoned, tormented, sawn asunder, slain with sword;
They have conquered death and Satan by the might of Christ the Lord.

Marching with Thy cross their banner, they have triumphed, following
Thee, the Captain of salvation, Thee, their Savior and their King;
Gladly, Lord, with Thee they suffered; gladly, Lord, with Thee they died;
And by death to life immortal they were born and glorified.

Now they reign in heav’nly glory, now they walk in golden light,
Now they drink, as from a river, holy bliss and infinite:
Love and peace they taste forever, and all truth and knowledge see
In the beatific vision of the blessèd Trinity.

God of God, the One begotten, Light of light, Emmanuel,
In Whose body joined together all the saints forever dwell;
Pour upon us of Thy fullness that we may forevermore
God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Ghost adore.

Christopher Wordsworth

(PS. Yes, I realize I've been a little sparse on posting as of late. And no, I didn't switch to my Xanga for posting on religious matters... contrary to popular belief, Brady Quinn is not a god. Heh.)