Not Having spot or wrinkle.

HOPELESS and outcast once we lay, Worthy thy hate and scorn; But love like thine could find a way To rescue and adorn. Dear Savior, from thy bleeding veins A living fountain flows, To wash thy bride from all her stains, And soothe her deepest woes.

Cleans'd from her sins, renew'd by grace, Thy royal throne above, Dear Savior, is her destin'd place— Her sweet abode thy love.

Thine eye in that unclouded day, Shall, with supreme delight, Thy fair and glorious bride survey, Unblemish'd in thy sight.