A good­ly theme is mine,
And ea­ger­ly I sing;
For boun­te­ous words flow from my lips
As I sa­lute the King.
Supremely fair He is,
In beau­ty peer­less He;
For Him the fa­vor of the Lord
Doth grace eter­nal­ly.

Gird on Thy sword, O King,
Put on Thy ma­jes­ty;
Ride out in full re­gal­ia,
And rich­est pa­no­ply.
Triumph in ve­ry truth,
In meek­ness and in right,
Let fly the ar­rows of re­venge,
And van­quish in Thy might.

Thy throne is ev­er sure,
Establishèd of God;
Its scep­ter is of right­eous­ness,
Of equ­ity its rod.
Thou lov­est per­fect right,
Hatest ini­qui­ty;
Therefore with oil of fes­tive joy
The Lord an­oint­ed Thee.

Thy gar­ments breathe of myrrh,
Of spic­es rich and rare;
Glad strains of joy­ous mu­sic ring
Throughout Thy pal­ace fair.
Amid Thy glo­ri­ous train
King’s daugh­ters wait­ing stand,
And on Thy right the queen ad­orned
In gold from Ophir land.

O roy­al bride, give heed,
This King is now thy Lord;
Forsake thy for­mer loy­al­ties,
Full feal­ty ac­cord.
Thy beau­ty and thy grace
Will then de­light the King;
And they to thee, since thou art His,
Their pre­cious gifts will bring.

Enthroned in roy­al state
And glo­ri­ous thou shalt dwell,
With gar­ments fair, in­wrought with gold,
His bride He lov­eth well.
And they who hon­or thee
Shall in thy train at­tend,
And to the pal­ace of the King
Shall jo­yful­ly as­cend.

Then in Thy Fa­ther’s place
The sons of roy­al birth
Thou wilt en­dow with re­gal gifts
As princ­es of the earth.
Thy name shall be pro­claimed
Through all suc­ceed­ing days,
And all the peo­ples ev­ery­where
Shall give Thee end­less praise.