5. Lord God, my Father, mighty Shield, Thou in Thy Son art all revealed As Thou hast loved and known me; Thy Son hath me with Him betrothed, In His own whitest raiment clothed, He for His bride will own me. Hallelujah! Life in heaven Hath He given, With Him dwelling, Still shall I His praise be telling. 6. Then touch the chords of harp and lute, Let no sweet music now be mute, But, joyously resounding, Tell of the marriage-feast, the bride, The heavenly Bridegroom at her side, Mid love and joy abounding. Shout for triumph, Loudly sing ye, Praises bring ye, Fall before Him, King of kings, let all adore Him! 7. Here rests my heart and holds it fast; The Lord I love is First and Last, The End and the Beginning. I welcome death, for I shall rise Through Him to His own Paradise, Above all tears and sinning. Amen! Amen! Come, Lord Jesus. Soon release us! With deep yearning, Lord, we look for Thy returning! P. Nicolai, 1597; C. Winkworth, tr., a. 104 S. M. 8 l Crown Him with many crowns, The Lamb upon His throne; Hark! how the heav’nly 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. 2. 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. 3. Crown Him the Lord of love Behold His hands and side, Rich wounds, yet visible above, In beauty glorified. No angel in the sky Can fully bear that sight, But downward bends his wond’ring eye At mysteries so bright. 4. 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. 5. Crown Him the Lord of years, The Potentate of time, Creator of the rolling spheres, Ineffably sublime. All hail, Redeemer, hail! For Thou hast died for me; Thy praise shall never, never fail Throughout eternity. M. Bridges, 1851. 105 S. M. 8 l I was a wandering sheep, I did not love the fold; I did not love my Shepherd’s voice, I would not be controlled; I was a wayward child, I did not love my home; I did not love my Father’s voice, I loved afar to roam.