Awake! awake! O Zi­on!
Put on thy strength di­vine—
Thy gar­ments, bright in beau­ty—
The brid­al dress be thine:
Jerusalem the ho­ly,
To pu­ri­ty re­stored;
Meek bride, all fair and low­ly,
Go forth to meet thy Lord.

From hence­forth pure and spot­less,
All glo­ri­ous with­in,
Prepared to meet the Bride­groom,
And cleansed from ev­ery sin;
With love and won­der smit­ten,
And bowed in guile­less shame,
Upon thy heart be writ­ten
The new mys­ter­ious name.

Jerusalem the ho­ly,
In light and peace be­hold;
Her glow­ing al­tars flam­ing,
Her can­dle­sticks of gold.
The heav’n­ly Bride­groom’s dwell­ing,
The place of Da­vid’s thrones;
Her so­lemn an­thems swell­ing,
Her pave­ment pre­cious stones.

Jerusalem, vic­to­ri­ous
In tri­umph o’er her foes;
Mount Zi­on, great and glo­ri­ous,
Thy gates no more shall close:
Earth’s mill­ions shall as­sem­ble
Around thy op­en door,
While hell and Sa­tan trem­ble,
And earth and Heav’n adore.

The Lamb who bore our sor­rows
Comes down to earth again;
No suf­fer­er now, but vic­tor,
For ev­er­more to reign;
To reign in ev­ery na­tion,
And rule in ev­ery zone:
O world-wide co­ro­na­tion!
In ev­ery heart a throne.

Awake! Awake! O Zi­on!
Thy brid­al day draws nigh—
The day of signs and won­ders,
And mar­vels from on high:
The sun up­ris­es slow­ly,
But keep thou watch and ward;
Fair bride, all pure and low­ly,
Go forth to meet thy Lord.