Yea, thou excell'st in rich attire
     The lamp that lights the globe
Thy sparkling garment heav'ns admire,
     Thy husband is thy robe.

This raiment never waxes old,
     'Tis always new and clean:
From summer-heat and winter-cold,
     Thy husband can thee screen.

All who the name of worthies bore,
     Since Adam was undrest,
No worth acquir'd, but as they wore
     Thy husband's purple vest.

This linen fine can beautify
     The soul with sin begirt.
0 bless his name, that e'er on thee
     Thy husband spread his skirt.

Are dunghills decked with flow'ry glore,
     Which Solomon's outvie: :
Sure thine is infinitely more,
     Thy husband decks the sky.

Thy hands could never work the dress,
     By grace alone thou'rt gay.
Grace vents and reigns through righteousness,
     Thy husband's bright array.

To spin thy robe no more dost need
     Than lilies toil for theirs;
Out of his bowels ev'ry thread
     Thy husband thine prepares.
Ralph Erskine


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