Jerusalem on high My song and city is, My home whene'er I die, The centre of my bliss: O happy place! When shall I be, My GOD, with Thee, To see Thy Face?
Thy walls are made of pearls, My heavenly city bright The gates are dazzling white, Thy streets are paved with gold O happy place! etc.
The sun does not light there Neither is there the moon, All these are not needed For Jesus is the light O happy place! etc.
There dwells my Lord, my King, Judged here unfit to live; There Angels to Him sing, And lowly homage give: O happy place! etc.
The Patriarchs of old There from their travels cease; The Prophets there behold Their longed-for Prince of Peace: O happy place! etc.
The LAMB's Apostles there I might with joy behold; The harpers I might hear Harping on harps of gold; O happy place! etc.
The bleeding Martyrs, they Within those courts are found, Clothed in pure array, Their scars with glory crowned: O happy place! etc.
Ah, woe is me, that I In Kedar's tents here stay: No place like that on high; LORD, thither guide my way: O happy place! etc. Amin.