Jerusalem, my happy home,

Name ever dear to me,

When shall my labours have an end

In joy, and peace, and thee?

When shall these eyes thy heavenly 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! ’mid rude and stormy scenes,

I onward press to you.

Why should I shrink from 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 Saviour 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 labours have an end,

When I thy joys shall see.