With man­sions of fair­ness,
And beau­ty, and rare­ness,
And streets with a pave­ment of gold;
Where no one grows wea­ry,
No pros­pect is drea­ry,
And no one can ev­er grow old.

Refrain

Oh, there is a ci­ty, a beau­ti­ful ci­ty,
Whose build­er and mak­er is God;
A far away ci­ty, a won­der­ful ci­ty,
The beau­ti­ful ci­ty of God.

Its ri­vers of glad­ness
Will ban­ish all sad­ness,
And sor­rows shall van­ish away;
The moon shall not light­en,
The sun shall not bright­en,
That ci­ty by night or by day.

Refrain

But light will be giv­en,
All storm clouds be riv­en,
From ov­er that city of God;
We’ll view then in won­der,
Thro’ all that may sun­der,
The path that in sor­row we trod.

Refrain

No sor­row or sigh­ing,
Nor ang­uish or dy­ing,
Can sha­dow the bliss of that home;
And pil­grims who rest there,
Forever are blest there,
Nor yearn in their rap­ture to roam.

Refrain