Sweet place; sweet place alone!
The court of God most high,
The heaven of heavens, the throne
Of spotless majesty!

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O happy place!
When shall I be, my God, with Thee,
To see Thy face?

The stranger homeward bends,
And sigheth for his rest:
Heaven is my home, my friends
Lodge there in Abraham’s breast.

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Earth’s but a sorry tent,
Pitched but a few frail days,
A short leased tenement;
Heaven’s still my song, my praise.

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No tears from any eyes
Drop in that holy choir:
But death itself there dies,
And sighs themselves expire.

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There should temptations cease,
My frailties there should end.
There should I rest in peace
In the arms of my best friend.

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Jerusalem on high
My song and city is,
My home whene’er I die,
The center of my bliss.

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Thy walls, sweet city! thine
With pearls are garnished,
Thy gates with praises shine,
Thy streets with gold are spread.

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No sun by day shines there,
No moon by silent night.
O no! these needless are;
The Lamb’s the city’s light.

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There dwells my Lord, my King,
Judged here unfit to live;
There angels to Him sing,
And lowly homage give.

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The patriarchs of old
There from their travels cease:
The prophets there behold
Their longed for Prince of peace.

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The Lamb’s apostles there
I might with joy behold:
The harpers I might hear
Harping on harps of gold.

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The bleeding martyrs, they
Within those courts are found;
All clothed in pure array,
Their scars with glory crowned.

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Ah me! ah me! that I
In Kedar’s tents here stay;
No place like this on high;
Thither, Lord! guide my way.

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