Jerusalem on high,
My song that city is,
My home whene’er I die,
The center of my bliss;
O happy place! When shall I be,
My God, with Thee, to see Thy face?

Thy walls, sweet city, thine,
With pearls are garnishèd;
Thy gates with praises shine,
Thy streets with gold are spread;
O happy place! When shall I be,
My God, with Thee, to see Thy face?

No sun by day shines there,
Nor moon by silent night;
Oh no! these needless are,
The Lamb’s the city’s light:
O happy place! When shall I be,
My God, with Thee, to see Thy face?

There dwells my Lord, my king,
Judged here unfit to live;
There angels to Him sing,
And lowly homage give;
O happy place! When shall I be,
My God, with Thee, to see Thy face?

The patriarchs of old
There from their travels cease;
The prophets there behold
Their longed for Prince of Peace;
O happy place! When shall I be,
My God, with Thee, to see Thy face?

The Lamb’s apostles there
T might with joy behold,
The harpers I might hear
Harping on harps of gold;
O happy place! When shall I be,
My God, with Thee, to see Thy face?

The bleeding martyrs, they
Within those courts are found,
Clothèd in pure array,
Their scars with glory crowned;
O happy place! When shall I be,
My God, with Thee, to see Thy face?

Ah me! ah me! that I
In Kedar’s tent here stay;
No place like that on high;
Lord, thither guide my way;
O happy place! When shall I be,
My God, with Thee, to see Thy face?