The queen in gold of Ophir

The queen in gold of Ophir

At Thy right hand doth stand;

King’s daughters are the women

Who fill Thy honored band.

The church in all her glory

Shall match her glorious King

And all the saints

the women

Thy likeness there shall bring.

O daughter

now consider

E’en now incline thine ear:

Remember not thy people

And all thine own things here.

Thy beauty then shall blossom—

’Twill be the King’s desire;

For He thy worthy Lord is

Thy worship to inspire.

The daughter’s glorious garments

Are made of inwrought gold—

Within the inner palace

How wondrous to behold!

The glory of God’s nature

Is given her to wear

That all His holy being

She may in life declare.

In clothing too embroidered

She’ll to the King be led

In that fine linen garment

To be exhibited.

’Tis by the Spirit’s stitching

That Christ in us is wrought

And with this glorious garment

We’ll to the King be brought.

What gladness and rejoicing

When we the King shall see!

We’ll shout His worthy praises

Through all eternity.

And though the King we worship

Or glory in the Queen

In all this blest enjoyment

The glory goes to Him.