First Line: The head that once was crowned with thorns

The head that once was crowned with thorns
Is crowned with glory now:
A royal diadem adorns
The mighty victor’s brow.

The highest place that heav’n affords
Is surely his by right:
The King of kings and Lord of lords,
And heav’n’s eternal light.

The joy he is of all above,
The joy to all below:
To ev’ryone he shows his love,
And grants his name to know.

To them the cross, with all its shame,
With all its grace, is giv’n:
Their name an everlasting name.
Their joy the joy of heav’n.

The cross he bore is life and health,
Though shame and death to him;
His people’s hope, his people’s wealth,
Their everlasting theme.