eHymns.org

F. B. P.

Samuel Augustus Ward in 1882

H. P. M.

Materna C. M. D.
Lyric from the 16th century

O mother dear, Jerusalem,
When shall I come to thee?
When shall my sorrows have an end,
Thy joys when shall I see?
O happy harbor of the saints!
O sweet and pleasant soil!
In thee no sorrow may be found,
No grief, no care, no toil.

No murky cloud o'ershadows thee,
Nor gloom, nor darksome night;
But every soul shines as the sun,
For God Himself gives light.
O my sweet home, Jerusalem,
Thy joys when shall I see?
The King that sitteth on thy throne
In His felicity?

Thy gardens and thy goodly walks
Continually are green;
Where grow such sweet and pleasant flow'rs,
As nowhere else are seen.
Right through thy streets, with silver sound,
The living waters flow,
And on the banks on every side,
The trees of life do grow.

Those trees forevermore bear fruit,
And evermore do spring,
There evermore, the angels are,
And evermore do sing.
Jerusalem, my happy home,
Would God I were in thee!
Would God, my woes were at an end,
Thy joys, that I might see!

Thy walls are all of jasper made,
Thy streets of purest gold,
Yea, clear as untouched, virgin glass,
There walk God's saints of old!
The trees of life each month doth yield
Her firm, full-ripened fruit,
O, may the nations of the earth,
To thee their honors bring!