Joy and tri­umph ev­er­last­ing
Hath the heav’n­ly Church on high;
For that pure im­mor­tal glad­ness
All our feast days mourn and sigh:
Yet in death’s dark de­sert wild
Doth the mo­ther aid her child;
Guards ce­les­ti­al thence at­tend us,
Stand in com­bat to de­fend us.

Here the world’s per­pe­tu­al war­fare
Holds from Heav’n the soul apart;
Legioned foes in sha­do­wy ter­ror
Vex the Sab­bath of the heart.
O how hap­py that es­tate
Where de­light doth not ab­ate!
For that home the spir­it yearn­eth,
Where none lang­uish­eth nor mourn­eth.

There the bo­dy hath no tor­ment,
There the mind is free from care,
There is ev­ery voice re­joic­ing,
Every heart is lov­ing there.
Angels in that ci­ty dwell;
Them their king de­light­eth well:
Still they joy and wea­ry ne­ver,
More and more de­sir­ing ever.

There the seers and fa­thers ho­ly,
There the pro­phets glo­ri­fied,
All their doubts and dark­ness end­ed,
In the Light of Light abide.
There the saints, whose me­mo­ries old
We in faith­ful hymns up­hold,
Have for­got their bit­ter sto­ry
In the joy of Je­sus’ glo­ry.