Scripture Verse

A city…whose builder and maker is God. Hebrews 11:10

Introduction

portrait
Johann M. Meyfart (1590–1642)

Words: Jo­hann M. Mey­fart, Tu­ba No­vis­si­ma (Co­burg, Ger­ma­ny: 1626) (Je­ru­sa­lem, du hoch­ge­baute Stadt). Trans­lated from Ger­man to En­glish by Ca­the­rine Wink­worth, Ly­ra Ger­ma­ni­ca, sec­ond ser­ies (Lon­don: Long­man, Brown, Green, Long­mans & Ro­berts, 1858), pag­es 220–22.

Music: Je­ru­sa­lem (Prae­to­ri­us) Mi­chael Prae­to-ri­us, 1610 (🔊 pdf nwc).

portrait
Michael Praetorius (1571–1621)

Lyrics

Jerusalem, thou ci­ty fair and high,
Would God I were in thee!
My long­ing heart fain, fain to thee would fly,
It will not stay with me;
Far ov­er vale and mount­ain,
Far ov­er field and plain,
It hastes to seek its fount­ain
And quit this world of pain.

Oh hap­py day, and yet far hap­pi­er hour,
When wilt thou come at last?
When fear­less to my Fa­ther’s love and pow­er,
Whose pro­mise stand­eth fast,
My soul I glad­ly ren­der,
For sure­ly will His hand
Lead her with guid­ance ten­der
To Heav’n, her fa­ther­land.

A mo­ment’s space, and gent­ly, won­drous­ly,
Released from earth­ly ties,
The fie­ry cha­ri­ot bears her up to thee
Through all these low­er skies,
To yon­der shin­ing re­gions,
While down to meet her come
The bless­èd an­gel legions,
And bid her wel­come home.

Oh hail thou glo­ri­ous city! Now un­fold
The gates of grace to me!
How many a time I longed for thee of old,
Ere yet I was set free
From yon dark life of sad­ness,
Yon world of sha­dowy nought,
And God had giv’n the glad­ness,
The he­ri­tage I sought.

Oh what the na­tion, what the glo­ri­ous host,
Comes sweep­ing swift­ly down?
The chos­en ones on earth who wrought the most,
The Church’s bright­est crown,
Our Lord hath sent to meet me,
As in the far-off years
Their words oft came to greet me
In yon­der land of tears.

The pa­tri­archs’ and pro­phets’ no­ble train,
With all Christ’s fol­low­ers true,
Who bore the cross, and could the worst dis­dain
That ty­rants dared to do,
I see them shine for ev­er,
All glo­ri­ous as the sun,
’Mid light that fad­eth ne­ver,
Their per­fect free­dom won.

And when within that love­ly pa­ra­dise
At last I safe­ly dwell,
From out my bliss­ful soul what songs shall rise,
What joy my lips shall tell,
While ho­ly saints are sing­ing
Hosannas o’er and o’er,
Pure hal­le­lu­jahs ring­ing
Around me ev­er­more.

Innumerous choirs be­fore the shin­ing throne
Their joy­ful an­thems raise,
Till Heav’n’s glad halls are ec­ho­ing with the tone
Of that great hymn of praise,
And all its host re­joic­es,
And all its bless­èd throng
Unite their my­ri­ad voic­es
In one eter­nal song!