King in Zi­on, bless­èd Je­sus,
Glory be to Thee,
Reigning in the ci­ty gold­en,
Lord, re­mem­ber me;
Angel choirs in ho­ly ser­vice,
Round about Thee stand,
Sharing all Thy heav’n­ly trea­sure
In fair Beu­lah land.

And the hosts are still in­creas­ing,
But there’s room for more,
Saints and mar­tyrs and our kin­dred,
Loved ones gone be­fore;
All are prais­ing in the an­thems,
Round Thy great white throne,
So we all shall find Heav’n’s glo­ry,
Now on earth un­known.

Blessèd King, Thy face e’er smil­ing,
We now long to see,
And Thy hands so gent­ly guid­ing,
Keep us near to Thee;
Bending low in love so kind­ly,
Hear our humble pray­er,
That in frown­ing sky and storm cloud,
We may have Thy care.

When our work on earth is end­ed,
And the dawn­ing come,
Then, dear King, in Thy near pre­sence
May we find our home;
We will join the song eter­nal,
And with an­gels sing,
Sharing joy and peace un­end­ing,
With our Zi­on’s king.