Jesus, Thy head, once crowned with thorns,
Is crowned 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 given;
Though earth disowns Thy lowly name,
God honors it in heaven.
Who suffer with Thee, Lord, below,
Shall reign with Thee above;
Then let it be our joy to know
This way of peace and love.
To us Thy cross is life and health;
'Twas shame and death to Thee;
Our present glory, joy and wealth,
Our everlasting stay.