A King arrayed in wealth beyond all gold,
His riches gleam where mortal crowns grow dim,
A robe of righteousness, resplendent, bold,
Brocaded fine, with gems along its brim.

His throne adorned with opulence divine,
Each thread He weaves, a splendor none can sew,
This mantle, studded bright with jewels that shine,
He drapes on souls redeemed from sin’s dark woe.

Oh, Sovereign Lord, Thy scepter gilds the skies,
Thy bounty flows to clad the broken race,
In kingly grace, Thou bidst the lost arise,
To wear Thy garb of mercy, love, and grace.

Thy reign, a vault of treasures ever free,
Enrobes us all in holy majesty.