1 Jesus, thy blood and righteousness,
My beauty are, my glorious dress;
'Midst flaming worlds in these array'd,
With joy shall I lift up my head.

2 When from the dust of death I rise,
To claim my mansion in the skies;
E'en then shall this be all my plea,
"Jesus hath liv'd, hat di'd for me."

3 Bold shall I stand in that great day;
For who aught to my charge shall lay?
Fully thro' these absolv'd I am
From sin and fear, from guilt and shame.

4 Thus Abraham the friend of God,
Thus all the armies bought with blood,
Saviour of sinners thee proclaim;
Sinners, of whom the chief I am.

5 This spotless robe the same appears,
When ruin'd nature sinks in years;
No age can change its glorious hue,
The grace of Christ is ever new.

6 O let the dead now hear thy voice,
Now bid thy banish'd ones rejoice,
Their beauty this, their glorious dress,
Jesus the Lord our righteousness.