JERUSALEM the golden,
With milk and honey blest,
Beneath thy contemplation
Sink heart and voice opprest;
I know not, oh, I know not,
What joy awaits us there;
What radiancy of glory!
What bliss beyond compare !
2 They stand, those halls of Zion,
All-jubilant with song,
And bright with many an angel,
And all the martyr throng:
The Prince is ever in them;
The daylight is serene;
The pastures of the blessèd
Are decked in glorious sheen.
3 There is the throne of David,
And there, from care released,
The song of them that triumph,
The shout of them that feast;
And they, who with their Leader,
Have conquered in the fight,
For ever and for ever
Are clad in robes of white.
4 O sweet and blessèd country,
The home of God's elect!
O sweet and blessèd country,
That eager hearts expect!
Jesus, in mercy bring us
To that dear land of rest;
Who art, with God the Father,
And Spirit, ever blest.
Bernard of Cluny, 12th Cent. Tr. J. M. Neale.
JERUSALEM the glorious!
The glory of th' elect!
O dear and future vision
That eager hearts expect;
E'en now by faith I see thee:
E'en here thy walls discern :
To Thee my thoughts are kindled,
And strive, and pant, and yearn.
2 Oh, none can tell thy bulwarks,
How gloriously they rise:
Oh, none can tell thy capitals
Of beautiful device:
Thy loveliness oppresses
All human thought and heart:
And none, O Peace, O Zion,
Can sing thee as thou art.
3 Jerusalem, exulting
On that securest shore,
I hope thee, wish thee, sing thee,
And love thee evermore !
O sweet and blessèd country,
Shall I ever see thy face?
O sweet and blessèd country,
Shall I ever win thy grace?
4 I have the hope within me
To comfort and to bless!
Shall I ever win the prize itself?
O tell me, tell me, yes!
Exult, O dust and ashes!
The Lord shall be thy part;
His only, His forever,
Thou shalt be, and thou art !
Bernard of Cluny, 12th Cent. Tr. J. M. Neale.
A PILGRIM and a stranger,
I journey here below;
Far distant is my country,
The home to which I go.
Here I must toil and travel,
Oft weary and oppressed,
But there my God shall lead me
To everlasting rest.
2 It is a well-worn pathway,
Many have gone before;
The holy saints and prophets,
The patriarchs of yore;
They trod the toilsome journey
In patience and in faith:
And them I fain would follow,
Like them in life and death.
3 So I must hasten forwards, -
For soon the end will come.
This land of my sojourning
Is not my destined home;
That evermore abideth,
Jerusalem above,
The everlasting city,
The land of light and love.
4 There still my thoughts are dwelling,
'T is there I long to be!
Come, Lord, and call Thy servant
To blessedness with Thee.
Come, bid my toils be ended;
Let all my wanderings cease,
Call from the wayside lodging
To the sweet home of peace.
THERE is a land immortal,
The beautiful of lands;
Beside its ancient portal
A silent sentry stands ;
He only can undo it,
And open wide the door;
And mortals who pass through it
Are mortal nevermore.
2 Though dark and drear the passage
That leadeth to the gate,
Yet grace attends the message,
To souls that watch and wait:
And at the time appointed
A messenger comes down,
And guides the Lord's anointed
From cross to glory's crown.
3 Their sighs are lost in singing,
They're blessèd in their tears;
Their journey heavenward winging,
They leave on earth their fears:
Death like an angel seemeth;
"We welcome thee," they cry;
Their face with glory beameth
'Tis life for them to die!
UPWARD where the stars are burning,
Silent, silent in their turning
Round the never changing pole;
Upward where the sky is brightest,
Upward where the blue is lightest,
Lift I now my longing soul.
2 Far above that arch of gladness,
Far beyond these clouds of sadness,
Are the many mansions fair.
Far from pain and sin and folly,
In that palace of the holy,
I would find my mansion there.
3 Where the glory brightly dwelleth,
Where the new song sweetly swelleth,
And the discord never comes;
Where life's stream is ever laving,
And the palm is ever waving,
That must be the home of homes.
4 Where the Lamb on high is seated, By ten thousand voices greeted,
Lord of lords, and King of kings. Son of Man, they crown, they crown Him, Son of God, they own, they own Him; With His name the palace rings.
5 Blessing, honor, without measure,
Heavenly riches, earthly treasure,
Lay we at His blessèd feet:
Poor the praise that now we render,
Loud shall be our voices yonder,
When before His throne we meet.
JERUSALEM, my happy home,
Name ever dear to me,
When shall my labors have an end
In joy, and peace, and thee?
2 When shall these eyes thy heaven-built walls
And pearly gates behold;
Thy bulwarks with salvation strong,
And streets of shining gold?
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