How proud we are, how fond to show,
Our clothes, and call them rich and new,
When the poor sheep and silk-worms wore
That very clothing long before!
The tulip and the butterfly
Appear in gayer clothes than I;
Let me be dressed fine as I will,
Flies, worms, and flowers excel me still.
The only robe that’s worth a thought,
Of linen fine and white is wrought:
’Tis God who gives this beauteous dress.
This robe’s the Saviour’s righteousness.
In this, on earth, God’s saints appear,
Then go to heaven and wear it there;
’Twill stand the test of heavenly light,
’Tis Christ’s own work, and His delight.