Daily, dai­ly, sing the prais­es
Of the ci­ty God hath made;
In the beau­te­ous fields of Ed­en
Its foun­da­tion stones are laid.

Refrain

O that I had wings of an­gels,
Here to spread and hea­ven­ward fly!
I would seek the gates of Zi­on,
Far be­yond the star­ry sky.

All the walls of that dear ci­ty
Are of bright and bur­nished gold;
It is match­less in its beau­ty,
And its trea­sures are un­told.

Refrain

In the midst of that dear ci­ty
Christ is reign­ing on His seat,
And the ang­els swing their cen­sers
In a ring about His feet.

Refrain

From the throne a ri­ver is­sues,
Clear as crys­tal, pass­ing bright,
And it tra­vers­es the ci­ty
Like a sud­den beam of light.

Refrain

There the for­ests ev­er blos­som,
Like our or­chards here in May;
There the gar­dens ne­ver wi­ther,
But eter­nal­ly are gay.

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There the mea­dows green and dewy
Shine with lil­ies won­drous fair;
Thousand, thou­sand, are the co­lors
Of the wav­ing flow­ers there.

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There the wind is sweet­ly frag­rant,
And is lad­en with the song
Of the se­raphs, and the el­ders,
And the great re­deem­èd throng.

Refrain

O I would my ears were op­en
Here to catch that hap­py strain!
O I would my eyes some vi­sion
Of that Ed­en would at­tain!

Refrain