Monday, 18 December 2017

ANONYMOUS – Hierusalem, my Happy Home

HIERUSALEM, my happy home,
When shall I come to thee?
When shall my sorrows have an end
Thy joys when shall I see?

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

No dampish mist is seen in thee,
Nor cold nor darksome night;
There every soul shines as the sun,
There God himself gives light.

There lust and lucre cannot dwell,
There envy bears no sway;
There is no hunger, heat nor cold,
But pleasure every way.

Hierusalem, Hierusalem,
God grant I once may see
Thy endless joys, and of the same
Partaker aye to be

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

Thy turrets and thy pinnacles
With carbuncles do shine;
Thy very streets are paved with gold,
Surpassing clear and fine
Thy houses are of ivory,
Thy windows crystal clear,
Thy tiles are made of beaten gold,
O God, that I were there

Within thy gates nothing doth come
That is not passing clean;
No spider’s web, no dirt, no dust,
No filth may there be seen

Ah, my sweet home, Hierusalem,
Would God I were in thee!
Would God my woes were at an end,
Thy joys that I might see!  …

Thy gardens and thy gallant walks
Continually are green;
There grows such sweet and pleasant flowers
As nowhere else are seen…..

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

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

There David stands with harp in hand
As master of the Quire;
Ten thousand times that man were blest
That might this music hear

Our Lady sings Magnificat
With tune surpassing sweet;
And all the virgins bear their parts
Sitting about her feet

Te Deum doth saint Ambrose sing,
Saint Austin doth the like;
Old Simeon and Zachary
Have not their songs to seek

There Magdalen hath left her moan
And cheerfully doth sing,
With blessed saints whose harmony
In every street doth ring.

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

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