Clothed in white, with oil on her face,
Chosen and kept by unmerited grace.
Her heart beats pure with heaven’s song,
The Bride of the Lord, where she belongs.
She walks through trials, fire, and rain,
Yet holds His name through joy and pain.
Adorned in faith, not jewels or gold,
But with a love that cannot grow old.
She waits with lamps trimmed, glowing bright,
For the coming King in the dead of night.
She speaks His Word, she lives His call—
The Lord’s own bride, surrendered all.
Her eyes are fixed beyond the skies,
Where holy vows will never die.
No blemish, wrinkle, guilt, or shame—
She’s covered now in Jesus’ name.
He lifts her veil, the time has come,
The trumpet sounds, the Bridegroom runs.
Together they rise, no longer two—
Forever united, faithful and true.
©heavenecho
H