Exodus 15:18 in the Hebrew is a single line: The Lord shall reign forever and ever. Targum Pseudo-Jonathan expands it into a full coronation ceremony.
When Israel beheld the signs and the power of His hand at the Yam Suph, the Targum says, the children of the captives turned to one another and said: Come, and let us set the crown of majesty on the head of our Redeemer.
The phrase children of the captives is striking. These were not soldiers. Not kings. Not priests. They were the sons and daughters of slaves, born into bondage, who had never known anything but Pharaoh's brick quotas. And it was they who crowned the King of kings.
Listen to the coronation formula the Targum gives them: who maketh to pass over, and passeth not; who changeth, and is not changed; whose is the crown of the kingdom; the King of kings in this world; whose, too, is the kingdom in the world to come, for ever and ever.
Four pairs, each one a paradox: He makes others pass, but does not pass. He changes others, but is not changed. His kingship stretches across this world and the world to come. The Sages heard in this formula the seed of the Aleinu prayer, which concludes every Jewish service to this day.
The Maggid marvels at the quiet radicalism of the Targum. The coronation of God did not happen on a throne in a palace. It happened on a beach, among freed slaves, sung by children who had inherited nothing but chains and were now crowning a King. This is the Jewish vision of kingship: it is the unlikeliest who confer the highest honor.