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- Jerusalem, my happy home,
When shall I come to thee?
When shall my sorrows have an end?
Thy joys when shall I see?
- O happy harbour of the saints!
O sweet and pleasant soil!
In thee no sorrow may be found,
No grief, no are, no toil.
- In thee no sickness may be seen,
No hurt, no ache, no sore,
In thee there is no dread of death,
But life for evermore.
- No dampish mist is seen in thee,
No cold nor darksome night;
There every soul shines as the sun;
There God himself gives light.
- There lust and lucre cannot dwell;
There envy bears no sway;
There is no hunger, heat, nor cold,
But pleasure every way.
- Jerusalem, Jerusalem,
God grant I once may see
Thy endless joys, and of the same
Partaker aye may be!
- Thy walls are made of precious stones,
Thy bulwarks diamonds square;
Thy gates are of right orient pearl;
Exceeding rich and rare.
- Thy turrets and thy pinnacles,
With carbuncles do shine;
Thy very streets are paved with gold,
Surpassing clear and fine.
- Thy houses are of ivory,
Thy windows crystal clear;
Thy tiles are made of beaten gold
O God that I were there.
- Within thy gates nothing doth come
That is not passing clean.
No spider’s web, no dirt, no dust.
No filth may there be seen.
- Ah, my sweet home, Jerusalem.
Would God I were in thee!
Would God my woes were at an end.
Thy joys that I might see!