Crown Him the Lord of love, behold His hands and side,
Those wounds, yet visible above, in beauty glorified.
No angel in the sky can fully bear that sight,
But downward bends his burning eye at mysteries so bright.
Worship isn’t about our experience, but that doesn’t mean our experience is meaningless; and I will tell you that standing to sing that Tuesday night with 3300 brothers and sisters in Christ, all of us singing at the top of our lungs, gave me chills. I have a sense of what it means that the Lord is enthroned on the praises of his people, because I could feel it, just a little.
All hail, Redeemer, hail! For Thou has died for me;
Thy praise shall never, never fail throughout eternity.