O what their joy and their glory must be,
Those endless Sabbaths the blessèd ones see;
Crown for the valiant, to weary ones, rest;
God shall be all, and in all ever blessed.
What are the Monarch, His court, and His throne?
What are the peace and the joy that they own?
Tell us, ye blest ones, that in it have share,
If what ye feel ye can fully declare!
Jerusalem name we that shore,
Vision of Peace that brings joy evermore;
Wish and fulfillment can severed be ne’er;
Nor do things prayed for come short of the prayer.
We, where no troubles distraction can bring,
We the sweet anthems of Sion shall sing:
While for Thy grace, Lord, their voices of praise
Thy blessèd people evermore raise.
There dawns no Sabbath, no Sabbath is o’er,
Those Sabbath keepers have one, and no more;
One and unending is that triumph song
Which to the angels and us shall belong.
Now in the meanwhile, with hearts raised on high,
We for that country must yearn and must sigh;
Seeking Jerusalem, dear native land,
Through our long exile on Babylon’s strand.
Low before Him with our praises we fall,
Of whom, and in whom, and through whom are all;
Of whom, the Father; and in whom, the Son,
Through whom, the Spirit, with These ever One.