LXXII. The Meek beautified with Salvation.

YE humble Souls, rejoice,
And chearful Triumphs sing;
Wake all your Harmony of Voice,
For Jesus is your King.

That meek and lowly Lord,
Whom here your Souls have known,
Pledges the Honour of his Word
T' avow you for his own.

He brings Salvation near,
For which his Blood was paid:
How beauteous shall your Souls appear
Thus sumptuously array'd!

Sing, for the Day is nigh,
When near your Leader's Seat
The tallest Sons of Pride shall lye,
The Footstool of your Feet.

Salvation, Lord, is thine;
And all thy Saints confess
The royal Robes, in which they shine,
Were wrought by sov'reign Grace.