Jerusalem the golden, with milk and honey blest,
Beneath
thy contemplation sink heart and voice oppressed.
I know not,
O I know not, what joys await us there,
What radiancy of
glory, what bliss beyond compare.
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.
There is the throne of David, and there, from care released,
The shout of them that triumph, the song of them that feast;
And they, who with their Leader, have conquered in the fight,
Forever and forever are clad in robes of white.
O one, O only mansion! O paradise of joy!
Where tears are
ever banished, and smiles have no alloy;
The cross is all thy
splendor, the Crucified thy praise,
His laud and benediction
thy ransomed people raise.