My beauty are, my glorious dress;
'Midst flaming worlds, in these arrayed,
With joy shall I lift up my head.
2 When, from the dust of death, I rise
To take my mansion in the skies;
E'en then shall this be all my plea—
Jesus hath lived and died for me.
3 Bold shall I stand in that great day,
For who aught to my charge shall lay,
While, through Thy blood, absolved
I am
From sin's tremendous curse and
shame ?
4 This spotless robe the same appears
When ruined nature sinks in years:
No age can change its glorious hue;
The robe of Christ is ever new.
5 Oh, let the dead now hear Thy voice !
Bid, Lord, Thy banished ones rejoice:
Their beauty this their glorious dress,
Jesus, Thy blood and righteousness.