Sweet place; sweet place alone!
The court of God most high,
The hea­ven of hea­vens, the throne
Of spot­less ma­jes­ty!

Refrain

O hap­py place!
When shall I be, my God, with Thee,
To see Thy face?

The stran­ger home­ward bends,
And sighe­th for his rest:
Heaven is my home, my friends
Lodge there in Ab­ra­ham’s breast.

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Earth’s but a sor­ry tent,
Pitched but a few frail days,
A short leased te­ne­ment;
Heaven’s still my song, my praise.

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No tears from any eyes
Drop in that ho­ly choir:
But death it­self there dies,
And sighs them­selves ex­pire.

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There should temp­ta­tions cease,
My frail­ties there should end.
There should I rest in peace
In the arms of my best friend.

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Jerusalem on high
My song and ci­ty is,
My home when­e’er I die,
The cen­ter of my bliss.

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Thy walls, sweet ci­ty! thine
With pearls are gar­nished,
Thy gates with prais­es shine,
Thy streets with gold are spread.

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No sun by day shines there,
No moon by si­lent night.
O no! these need­less are;
The Lamb’s the ci­ty’s light.

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There dwells my Lord, my king,
Judged here un­fit to live;
There an­gels to Him sing,
And low­ly hom­age give.

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The pa­tri­archs of old
There from their tra­vels cease:
The pro­phets there be­hold
Their longed for Prince of Peace.

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The Lamb’s apos­tles there
I might with joy be­hold:
The harp­ers I might hear
Harping on harps of gold.

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The bleed­ing mar­tyrs, they
Within those courts are found;
All clothed in pure ar­ray,
Their scars with glo­ry crowned.

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Ah me! ah me! that I
In Ke­dar’s tents here stay;
No place like this on high;
Thither, Lord! guide my way.

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