1 The king of saints, how fair his face, Adorn'd with majesty and grace! He comes with blessings from above, And wins the nations to his love.
2 At his right hand our eyes behold The queen array'd in purest gold; The world admires her heavenly dress, Her robe of joy and righteousness.
3 He forms her beauties like his own; He calls and seats her near his throne: Fair stranger, let thine heart forget The idols of thy native state.
4 So shall the King the more rejoice In thee, the favourite of his choice; Let him be lov'd and yet ador'd, For he's thy Maker and thy Lord.
5 O happy hour, when thou shalt rise To his fair palace in the skies, And all thy Sons (a numerous train) Each like a prince in glory reign!
6 Let endless honours crown his head; Let every age his praises spread; While we with cheerful songs approve The condescensions of his love.