It shone with the glory of God, and its brilliance was like that of a very precious jewel, like a jasper, clear as crystal.
Revelation 21:11
Words: Johann M. Meyfart, Tuba Novissima (Coburg, Germany: 1626) (Jerusalem, du hochgebaute Stadt). Translated from German to English by William R. Whittingham, Hymns for Church and Home (Philadelphia, Pennsylvania: J. B. Lippincott, 1861), number 414.
Music: Whittingham Horatio W. Parker, 1887 (🔊 pdf nwc).
Jerusalem! high tower thy glorious walls!
Would God I were in thee!
Desire of thee my longing heart enthralls,
Desire at home to be:
Wide from the world out-leaping,
O’er hill and vale and plain,
My soul’s strong wing is sweeping,
Thy portals to attain.
O gladsome day, and yet more gladsome hour!
When shall that hour have come,
When my rejoicing soul its own free power
May use in going home?
Itself to Jesus giving,
In trust to His own hand,
To dwell among the living,
In that blest Fatherland.
A moment’s time, the twinkling of an eye
Shall be enough, to soar
In buoyant exultation, through the sky
And reach the heav’nly shore.
Elijah’s chariot bringing
The homeward traveler there;
Glad troops of angels winging
It onward through the air.
Great fastness thou of honor! thee I greet!
Throw wide thy gracious gate,
An entrance free to give these longing feet;
At last released, though late,
From wretchedness and sinning,
And life’s long weary way;
And now, of God’s gift, winning
Eternity’s bright day.
What throng is this, what noble troop, that pours,
Arrayed in beauteous guise,
Out through the glorious city’s open doors,
To greet my wondering eyes?
The host of Christ’s elected,
The jewels that He bears
In His own crown, selected
To wipe away my tears.
Of prophets great, and patriarchs high, a band
That once has borne the cross,
With all the company that won that land,
By counting gain for loss,
Now float in freedom’s lightness,
From tyrant’s chains set free;
And shine like suns in brightness,
Arrayed to welcome me.
One more at last arrived they welcome there,
To beauteous paradise;
Where sense can scarce its full fruition bear
Or tongue for praise suffice;
Glad hallelujahs ringing
With rapturous rebound,
And rich hosannahs singing
Eternity’s long round.
Unnumbered choirs before the Lamb’s high throne
There shout the jubilee,
With loud resounding peal and sweetest tone,
In blissful ecstasy;
A hundred thousand voices
Take up the wondrous song;
Eternity rejoices
God’s praises to prolong.