Thy turrets and thy pinnacles,
With carbuncles do shine,
With jasper, pearl, and chrysolite,
Surpassing pure and fine.

Thy houses are of ivory,

Thy windows crystal clear,
Thy streets are laid with beaten gold,
There angels do appear.

Thy walls are made of precious stone,
Thy bulwarks diamond square,
Thy gates are made of Orient pearl,
O God, if I were there!

Within thy gates no thing can come
That is not passing clean;
No spider's web, no dirt, nor dust,
No filth may there be seen.
JEHOVAH, Lord, now come away,
And end my grief and plaints,

Take me to thy Jerusalem,

And place me with thy saints,

Who there are crowned with glory great,

And see God face to face;

They triumph still and aye rejoice,

Most happy is their case.

But we that are in banishment

Continually do moan,

We sigh, we mourn, we sob, we weep,
Perpetually we groan.

Our sweetness mixed is with gall,
Our pleasures are but pain,

Our joys not worth the looking on,
Our sorrows aye remain.

But there they live in such delight,
Such pleasure and such play,
That unto them a thousand years
Seem but as yesterday.

O my sweet home, Jerusalem,
Thy joys when shall I see,
Thy King sitting upon his throne,
And thy felicity!

Thy vineyards and thy orchards,

So wonderfully rare,

Are furnish'd with all kinds of fruit,

Most beautifully fair.

Thy gardens and thy goodly walks,

Continually are green;

There grow such sweet and pleasant flowers, As nowhere else are seen.

There cinnamon and sugar grow,
There nard and balm abound;

No tongue can tell, no heart can think,
The pleasures there are found.

There nectar and ambrosia spring,
The music's ever sweet;

There many a fair and dainty thing

Are trod down under feet.

Quite through the streets with pleasant sound

The flood of life doth flow, Upon the banks on every side The trees of life do grow.

These trees each month yield ripen'd fruit,

For evermore they spring,
And all the nations of the world,
To thee their honours bring.
Jerusalem, God's dwelling-place,
Full sore I long to see :
O that my sorrows had an end,
That I might dwell in thee!

There David stands with harp in hand,
As master of the choir,

A thousand times that man were bless'd
That might his music hear.

There, Mary sings "magnificat,"
With tunes surpassing sweet;
And all the virgins bear their part,
Singing about her feet.

"Te Deum" doth saint Ambrose sing, Saint Austin doth the like;

Old Simeon and Zacharie

Have not their songs to seek. There Magdalene hath left her moan And cheerfully doth sing,

With all blest saints whose harmony, Through every street doth ring.

Jerusalem! Jerusalem!

Thy joys fain would I see; Come quickly, Lord, and end my grief, And take me home to thee. O paint thy name in my forehead, And take me hence away,

That I may dwell with thee in bliss, And sing thy praises aye.

Jerusalem, the happy throne,
Jehovah's throne on high!

O sacred city, queen, and wife,
Of Christ eternally!

comely queen with glory clad,
With honour and degree,
All fair thou art, exceeding bright,
No spot there is in thee.

I long to see Jerusalem
The comfort of us all;
For thou art fair and beautiful,
None ill can thee befall.
In thee, Jerusalem, I say,

No darkness dare appear;
No night, no shade, no winter foul,
No time doth alter there.

No candle needs, no moon to shine,
No glittering stars to light,

For Christ, the King of Righteousness,
For ever shineth bright.

A Lamb unspotted, white, and pure,
To thee doth stand in lieu

Of light, so great the glory is,
Thine heavenly King to view.

He is the King of kings, beset
In midst his servants sight;
And they his happy household all
Do serve him day and night: