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| HIERUSALEM, 1 my happy home, | |
| When shall I come to thee? | |
| When shall my sorrows have an end? | |
| Thy joys when shall I see? | |
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| O happy harbour of the saints, | 5 |
| O sweet and pleasant soil, | |
| In thee no sorrow may be found, | |
| No grief, no care, no toil! | |
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| No dampish mist is seen in thee, | |
| No cold nor darksome night; | 10 |
| There every soul shines as the sun; | |
| There God Himself gives light. | |
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| There lust and lucre cannot dwell, | |
| There envy bears no sway; | |
| There is no hunger, heat, nor cold, | 15 |
| But pleasure every way. | |
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| Hierusalem! Hierusalem! | |
| God grant I once 2 may see | |
| Thy endless joys, and of the same | |
| Partaker aye to be. | 20 |
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| Thy walls are made of precious stones, | |
| Thy bulwarks diamonds square, | |
| Thy gates are of right orient pearl, | |
| Exceeding rich and rare. | |
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| Thy turrets and thy pinnacles | 25 |
| With carbuncles do shine, | |
| Thy very streets are paved with gold | |
| Surpassing clear and fine. | |
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| Thy houses are of ivory, | |
| Thy windows crystal clear, | 30 |
| Thy tiles are made of beaten gold,— | |
| O God, that I were there! | |
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| Ah, my sweet home, Hierusalem, | |
| Would God I were in thee! | |
| Would God my woes were at an end, | 35 |
| Thy joys that I might see! | |
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We that are here in banishment | |
| Continually do moan, | |
| We sigh and sob, we weep and wail, | |
| Perpetually we groan. | 40 |
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| Our sweet is mixed with bitter gall, | |
| Our pleasure is but pain; | |
| Our joys scarce last the looking on, | |
| Our sorrows still remain. | |
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| But there they live in such delight, | 45 |
| Such pleasure and such play, | |
| As that to them a thousand years | |
| Doth seem as yesterday. | |
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Thy gardens and thy gallant walks | |
| Continually are green; | 50 |
| There grow such sweet and pleasant flowers | |
| As nowhere else are seen. | |
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| Quite through the streets with silver sound | |
| The flood of life doth flow, | |
| Upon whose banks on every side | 55 |
| The wood of life doth grow. | |
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| There trees for evermore bear fruit, | |
| And evermore do spring; | |
| There evermore the angels sit, | |
| And evermore do sing. | 60 |
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| There David stands, with harp in hands | |
| As master of the choir, | |
| Ten thousand times that man were blest | |
| That might this music hear. | |
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| Our Lady sings Magnificat | 65 |
| With tones surpassing sweet, | |
| And all the virgins bear their part, | |
| Sitting about her feet. | |
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| There Magdalene hath left her moan, | |
| And cheerfully doth sing | 70 |
| With blessed saints, whose harmony | |
| In every street doth ring. | |
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| Hierusalem, my happy home, | |
| Would God I were in thee! | |
| Would God my woes were at an end, | 75 |
| Thy joys that I might see! Amen. | |
