There is the Throne of David,
    And there, from care released,
  The song of them that triumph,
    The shout of them that feast;
  And they who, with their Leader,
    Have conquered in the fight,
  Forever and forever
    Are clad in robes of white!

  O holy, placid harp-notes
    Of that eternal hymn! 
  O sacred, sweet reflection,
    And peace of Seraphim! 
  O thirst, forever ardent,
    Yet evermore content! 
  O true peculiar vision
    Of God cunctipotent! 
  Ye know the many mansions
    For many a glorious name,
  And divers retributions
    That divers merits claim;
  For midst the constellations
    That deck our earthly sky,
  This star than that is brighter—­
    And so it is on high.

  Jerusalem the glorious! 
    The glory of the Elect! 
  O dear and future vision
    That eager hearts expect! 
  Even now by faith I see thee,
    Even here thy walls discern;
  To thee my thoughts are kindled,
    And strive, and pant, and yearn.

  Jerusalem the only,
    That look’st from heaven below,
  In thee is all my glory,
    In me is all my woe;
  And though my body may not,
    My spirit seeks thee fain,
  Till flesh and earth return me
    To earth and flesh again.

  O none can tell thy bulwarks,
    How gloriously they rise! 
  O none can tell thy capitals
    Of beautiful device! 
  Thy loveliness oppresses
    All human thought and heart;
  And none, O peace, O Zion,
    Can sing thee as thou art!

  New mansion of new people,
    Whom God’s own love and light
  Promote, increase, make holy,
    Identify, unite! 
  Thou City of the Angels! 
    Thou City of the Lord! 
  Whose everlasting music
    Is the glorious decachord!

  And there the band of Prophets
    United praise ascribes,
  And there the twelvefold chorus
    Of Israel’s ransomed tribes. 
  The lily-beds of virgins,
    The roses’ martyr-glow,
  The cohort of the Fathers
    Who kept the faith below.

  And there the Sole-Begotten
    Is Lord in regal state,—­
  He, Judah’s mystic Lion,
    He, Lamb Immaculate. 
  O fields that know no sorrow! 
    O state that fears no strife! 
  O princely bowers!  O land of flowers! 
    O realm and home of Life!

  Jerusalem, exulting
    On that securest shore,
  I hope thee, wish thee, sing thee,
    And love thee evermore! 
  I ask not for my merit,
    I seek not to deny
  My merit is destruction,
    A child of wrath am I;
  But yet with faith I venture
    And hope upon my way;
  For those perennial guerdons
    I labor night and day.