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Verse 1

Behold what wondrous grace
The Father has bestowed
On sinners of a mortal race,
To call them sons of God!

Verse 2

Nor doth it yet appear
How great we must be made;
But when we see our Saviour here
We shall be like our Head.

Verse 3

A hope so much Divine
May trials well endure,
May purge our souls from sense and sin,
As Christ the Lord is pure.

Verse 4

If in my Father’s love
I share a filial part,
Send down Thy Spirit like a dove
To rest upon my heart.

Verse 5

We would no longer lie
Like slaves beneath the throne;
My faith shall “Abba, Father,” cry,
And Thou the kindred own.

Verse 1

O Mother dear, Jerusalem,
When shall I come to thee?
When shall my sorrows have an end?
Thy joys when shall I see?

Verse 2

O happy harbor of the saints!
O sweet and pleasant soil!
In thee no sorrow may be found,
No grief, no care, no toil.

Verse 3

Thy walls are made of precious stones,
Thy bulwarks diamonds square;
Thy gates are of right orient pearl,
Exceeding rich and rare.

Verse 4

Thy turrets and thy pinnacles
With carbuncles do shine;
Thy very streets are paved with gold,
Surpassing clear and fine.

Verse 5

Thy gardens and thy gallant walks
Continually are green,
There grow such sweet and pleasant flowers
As nowhere else are seen.

Verse 6

Quite through the streets, with silver sound,
The flood of life doth flow;
Upon whose banks on every side
The wood of life doth grow.

Verse 7

There trees for evermore bear fruit,
And evermore do spring;
There evermore the angels sit,
And evermore do sing.

Verse 8

Jerusalem, my happy home,
Would God I were in thee!
Would God my woes were at an end,
Thy joys that I might see!

Verse 1

Jerusalem the golden,
With milk and honey blest!
Beneath thy contemplation
Sink heart and voice oprest.
I know not, O I know not,
What joys await us there;
What radiancy of glory,
What bliss beyond compare.

Verse 2

They stand, those halls of Zion,
All jubilant with song,
And bright with many an angel,
And all the martyr throng.
The Prince is ever in them,
The daylight is serene;
The pastures of the blessed
Are decked in glorious sheen.

Verse 3

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,
For ever and for ever
Are clad in robes of white.

Verse 4

O mine, my golden Zion!
O lovelier far than gold!
With laurel-girt battalions,
And safe, victorious fold:
O sweet and blessed country,
Shall I ever see thy face?
O sweet and blessed country,
Shall I ever win thy grace?

Verse 5

Exult, O dust and ashes,
The Lord shall be thy part:
His only and for ever,
Thou shalt be, and thou art.
Exult, O dust and ashes,
The Lord shall be thy part:
His only and for ever,
Thou shalt be, and thou art.