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?