Jesus, Thy head, once crown'd with thorns,
Is crown'd with glory now;
Heaven's royal diadem adorns
The mighty Victor's brow.
Thou glorious light of courts above,
Joy of the saints below,
To us still manifest Thy love,
That we its depths may know.
To us Thy cross with all its shame,
With all its grace be giv'n;
Though earth disowns Thy lowly name,
God honors it in heav'n.
Who suffer with Thee, Lord, today,
Shall also with Thee reign:
Then let it be our joy to pay
The price, this goal attain.
To us Thy cross is life and health;
'Twas shame and death to Thee;
Our present glory, joy and wealth,
Our everlasting stay.