King
Christ, the King of kings
Of whom my soul sings
Born in a manger
His life in danger
No palace, no bed
No place to lay head
Walking everywhere
No carriage to spare
Riding a donkey
No horse ride swanky
A crown of sharp thorns
The King's head adorns
A reed placed in hand
Not a sceptre grand
Scarlet robe mocking
Such treatment shocking
He endured all pain
And then rose again
One day, He'll return
World to overturn
The King glorious
Christ victorious
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