City of God, how broad and far
Outspread thy walls sublime!
The true thy chartered freemen are
Of every age and clime.

One holy Church, one army strong;
One steadfast, high intent;
One working band, one harvest song,
One King omnipotent.

How purely hath thy speech come down
From man’s primeval youth!
How grandly hath thine empire grown
Of freedom, love and truth!

How gleam thy watch fires through the night
With never fainting ray!
How rise thy towers, serene and bright,
To meet the dawning day!

In vain the surge’s angry shock,
In vain the drifting sands;
Unharmed upon the eternal Rock
The eternal City stands.

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I want to be ready,
I want to be ready,
I want to be ready,
To walk in Jerusalem just like John.

John said the city was just foursquare,
Walk in Jerusalem just like John.
And he declared he’d meet me there,
Walk in Jerusalem just like John.

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O John, O John, what do you say?
Walk in Jerusalem just like John.
That I’ll be there at the coming day,
Walk in Jerusalem just like John.

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When Peter was preaching at Pentecost
Walk in Jerusalem just like John.
He was endowed with the Holy Ghost,
Walk in Jerusalem just like John.

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If you get there before I do,
Walk in Jerusalem just like John.
Tell all my friend I’m a-comin’, too,
Walk in Jerusalem just like John.

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Jerusalem, my happy home!
Name ever dear to me;
When shall my labors have an end,
In joy, and peace, and thee?

When shall these eyes thy heaven built walls
And pearly gates behold?
Thy bulwarks, with salvation strong,
And streets of shining gold?

There happier bowers than Eden’s bloom,
Nor sin nor sorrow know:
Blest seats, through rude and stormy scenes,
I onward press to you.

Why should I shrink at pain and woe?
Or feel at death dismay?
I’ve Canaan’s goodly land in view,
And realms of endless day.

Apostles, martyrs, prophets there
Around my Savior stand;
And soon my friends in Christ below
Will join the glorious band.

Jerusalem, my happy home!
My soul still pants for thee;
Then shall my labors have an end,
When I thy joys shall see.

O Christ do Thou my soul prepare
For that bright home of love;
That I may see Thee and adore,
With all Thy saints above.

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 harbor of the saints!
O sweet and pleasant soil!
In thee no sorrow may be found,
No grief, no care, no toil.

In thee no sickness may be seen,
No hurt, no ache, no sore;
There is no death nor ugly devil,
There is life for evermore.

No dampish mist is seen in thee,
No cold nor darksome night;
There every soul shines as the sun;
For 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 that I may see
Thine endless joy, and of the same
Partaker ay 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.

Aye, my sweet home, Jerusalem,
Would God I were in thee:
Would God my woes were at an end,
Thy joys that I might see.

Thy saints are crowned with glory great;
They see God face to face;
They triumph still, they still rejoice
Most happy is their case.

We that are here in banishment
Continually do mourn:
We sigh and sob, we weep and wail,
Perpetually we groan.

Our sweet is mixed with bitter gall,
Our pleasure is but pain:
Our joys scarce last the looking on,
Our sorrows still remain.

But there they live in such delight,
Such pleasure and such play,
As that to them a thousand years
Doth seem as yesterday.

Thy vineyards and thy orchards are
Most beautiful and fair,
Full furnished with trees and fruits,
Most wonderful and rare.

Thy gardens and thy gallant walks
Continually are green:
There grow such sweet and pleasant flowers
As nowhere else are seen.

There is nectar and ambrosia made,
There is musk and civet sweet;
There many a fair and dainty drug
Is trodden under feet.

There cinnamon, there sugar grows,
Here nard and balm abound.
What tongue can tell or heart conceive
The joys that there are found?

Quite through the streets with silver sound
The flood of life doth flow,
Upon whose banks on every side
The wood of life doth grow.

There trees for evermore bear fruit,
And evermore do spring;
There evermore the angels be,
And evermore do sing.

There David stands with harp in hand
As master of the choir:
Ten thousand times that man were blessed
That might this music hear.

Our Lady sings Magnificat
With tune surpassing sweet,
And all the virgins bear their part,
Sitting at her feet.

There Magdalen hath left her moan,
And cheerfully doth sing
With blessèd saints, whose harmony
In every street doth ring.

Jerusalem, my happy home,
Would God I were in thee!
Would God my woes were at an end
Thy joys that I might see!

Jerusalem, thou City bright
From Heav’n to earth descending,
How wondrously their holy light
Thy precious stones are blending.

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O City fair, O City blest,
All joy to mortals bringing,
Who would not raise his voice in praise
And thy dear name be singing!

O Gates of pearl,
O Streets of gold,
O River ever flowing
Where leads the Shepherd to the fold
The flock their Savior knowing.

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Shine, holy Light, within our hearts
All evil shade dispelling,
That we ne’er from Thy way depart,
Which leads to that blest dwelling.

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Lo! what a glorious sight appears
To our believing eyes!
The earth and sea are passed away,
And the old rolling skies.

From the third heav’n, where God resides,
That holy, happy place,
The new Jerusalem comes down,
Adorned with shining grace.

Attending angels shout for joy,
And the bright armies sing—
“Mortals, behold the sacred seat
Of your descending King.

“The God of glory down to men
Removes His blest abode;
Men, the dear objects of His grace,
And he the loving God.

“His own soft hand shall wipe the tears
From every weeping eye,
And pains, and groans, and griefs, and fears,
And death itself, shall die.”

How long, dear Savior! O how long
Shall this bright hour delay?
Fly swifter round, ye wheels of time,
And bring the welcome day.

O mother dear, Jerusalem,
When shall I come to thee?
When shall my sorrows have an end,
Thy joys when shall I see?
O happy harbor of the saints!
O sweet and pleasant soil!
In thee no sorrow may be found,
No grief, no care, no toil.

No murky cloud o’ershadows thee,
Nor gloom, nor darksome night;
But every soul shines as the sun,
For 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.

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 gardens and thy gallant walks
Continually are green;
There grow such sweet and pleasant flow’rs,
As nowhere else are seen;
Quite through the streets, with silver sound,
The flood of life doth flow,
Upon whose banks on every side,
The wood of life doth grow.

There trees forevermore bear fruit,
And evermore do spring,
There evermore the angels sit,
And evermore do sing.
Jerusalem, my happy home,
Would God I were in thee!
Would God my woes were at an end,
Thy joys that I might see!

That glorious day is drawing nigh,
When Zion’s light shall come;
She shall arise and shine on high,
Bright as the morning sun;
The north and south their sons resign,
And earth’s foundations bend;
Clothed as a bride, Jerusalem
All glorious shall descend.

The King Who wears the splendid crown,
The azure’s flaming bow;
The holy city shall bring down,
To bless His church below;
When Zion’s bleeding, conqu’ring King,
Shall sin and death destroy,
The morning stars shall join to sing,
And Zion shout for joy.

When the toils of life are over,
And we lay our armor down,
And we bid farewell to earth with all its cares,
We shall meet and greet our loved ones,
And our Christ we then shall crown,
In the new Jerusalem.

Refrain

There’ll be singing, there’ll be shouting
When the saints come marching home,
In Jerusalem, in Jerusalem,
Waving palms with loud hosannas
As the King shall take His throne,
In the new Jerusalem.

Though the way is sometimes lonely,
He will hold me with His hand,
Through the testings and the trials I must go.
But I’ll trust and gladly follow,
For sometime I’ll understand,
In the new Jerusalem.

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When the last goodbye is spoken
And the tear stains wiped away,
And our eyes shall catch a glimpse of glory fair,
Then with bounding hearts we’ll meet Him
Who hath washed our sins away,
In the new Jerusalem.

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When we join the ransomed army
In the summer land above,
And the face of our dear Savior we behold,
We will sing and shout forever,
And we’ll grow in perfect love,
In the new Jerusalem.

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