Dear Reader,

I set these lines down under the weight of a privilege I still cannot fully measure: that we who once wore the rags of sin now belong to Christ, and are clothed in His righteousness.

The exchange is so complete, the covering so royal, that the soul is left staggering—not with doubt, but with wonder. Every fold of the robe, every thread of the triumph, is a gift we did not earn and cannot lose.

May these verses help you stand a moment longer in that light, and revel, as I have tried to do, in the garments that are ours because we are His.

—the poet

Zechariah 3:4

“And he answered and spake unto those that stood before him, saying, Take away the filthy garments from him. And unto him he said, Behold, I have caused thine iniquity to pass from thee, and I will clothe thee with change of raiment.”

Revelation 19:8

“And to her was granted that she should be arrayed in fine linen, clean and white: for the fine linen is the righteousness of saints.”

2 Corinthians 5:21

“For he hath made him to be sin for us, who knew no sin; that we might be made the righteousness of God in him.”

Romans 13:14

“But put ye on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make not provision for the flesh, to fulfil the lusts thereof.”

Galatians 3:27

“For as many of you as have been baptized into Christ have put on Christ.”

Philippians 3:9

“And be found in him, not having mine own righteousness, which is of the law, but that which is through the faith of Christ, the righteousness which is of God by faith.”

From rags of night, where beggars of the Fall

Crept in the dust of Eden’s broken throne,

We rise—clothed now in splendor’s sovereign call,

The rags of sin exchanged for glory’s own.

Behold the robe! Not woven of the earth,

But spun of light upon the looms of grace;

Its purple folds outshine the stars of birth,

Its gold more pure than any king’s embrace.

Each thread a triumph, every seam a psalm,

Embroidered with the blood that bought our place;

No moth of guilt can mar this living balm,

No stain of yesterday can touch its face.

We revel, then—crowned heads and lifted hands,

In garments brighter than the noonday sun;

The court of Heaven thrills at our commands,

The former beggars now the Father’s sons.

Let trumpets sound! Let banners of the King

Unfurl above the hosts in white arrayed;

From filthy rags to royal covering,

We walk the streets of gold, unafraid.

All praise to Him who stripped our shame away

And robed us in the righteousness He won—

Forever we shall revel and obey,

Clothed as the Bride, the conquerors, the one.

**To God be the glory always and only.