When Jesus came to Bethlehem, 'twas as a new-born child.
No place to rest was found for Him except a manger bed;
And yet the shepherds worshipped Him; the wise men too were led
To see the King of Glory - the Word made flesh indeed.

When Jesus walked through Israel, now grown to manhood strong,
Nowhere had He to lay His head, no home to call His own;
And yet He taught the crowds with power, His healing touch made known.
This is the King of Glory - Behold the Lamb of God!

When Jesus in Gethsemane prayed in great agony,
Disciples could not keep awake to watch with Him that night;
"Thy will be done!" His earnest cry, victorious in the fight,
The conquering King of Glory - Behold the Lamb of God!

When Jesus staggered, scarred and bruised, out to that lonely hill,
Him had they all forsaken as He was crucified.
And yet He bore our every sin as on the cross He died.
Behold the King of Glory! Behold the Lamb of God!

When Jesus comes in glory, 'twill be a wondrous sight,
For saints of all the ages will all with Him unite;
They'll come with Him to reign with Him, crowned King in His own right.
He is the King of Glory; He is the Lord of all.


© G. Jones    1990/2004