You tell me of a ci­ty
Which is so bright and fair;
Oh, why do not the friends I love
Talk more of go­ing there?
I hear them speak of plea­sures
Which earth­ly things have giv’n;
Why do they ne­ver men­tion
The bet­ter joys of Heav’n?

Refrain

A ci­ty which hath foun­da­tions,
Whose build­er and mak­er is God;
Which shin­eth afar
Like a beau­ti­ful star,
By saints and an­gels trod!

I think about that ci­ty
Of which I have been told,
Whose gates are made of shin­ing pearl,
Whose streets are paved with gold.
The firm and strong foun­da­tion
Is built of jew­els rare;
I’m sure that noth­ing earth­ly
Can with those walls com­pare.

Refrain

Oh, dear and bless­èd ci­ty,
Could I but en­ter in,
I should be free from ev­ery pain,
From care, and doubt, and sin.
Oh, let me bear each tr­ial
As pa­tient as I may,
For soon will all things mor­tal
Forever pass away.

Refrain