1 Jerusalem on high,
My song and city is,
My home whene’er I die,
The centre of my bliss;
Oh, happy place!
When shall I be,
My God, with Thee,
To see Thy face?
2 There dwells my Lord, my King,
Judged here unfit to live;
There angels to Him sing
And lowly homage give;
Oh, happy place!
When shall I be,
My God, with Thee,
To see Thy face?
3 The patriarchs of old
There from their travels cease;
The prophets there behold
Their longed-for Prince of Peace;
Oh, happy place!
When shall I be,
My God, with Thee,
To see Thy face?
4 The Lamb’s apostles there
I might with joy behold,
The harpers I might hear
Harping on harps of gold:
Oh, happy place!
When shall I be,
My God, with Thee,
To see Thy face?
5 The bleeding martyrs, they
Within these courts are found,
Clothèd in pure array,
Their scars with glory crowned;
Oh, happy place!
When shall I be,
My God, with Thee,
To see Thy face?
6 Ah me! ah me! that I
In Kedar’s tent here stay;
No place like that on high;
Lord thither guide my way;
Oh, happy place!
When shall I be,
My God, with Thee,
To see Thy face?
Amen.
