The court of GOD most High, The Heaven of Heavens, the Throne Of spotless majesty! O happy place! When shall I be, My GOD, with Thee, To see Thy face? The stranger homeward bends, And sigheth for his rest: Heaven is my home, my friends Lodge there in Abraham's breast. Earth's but a sorry tent Pitch'd for a few frail days, A short-leased tenement; Heaven's still my song, my praise. No tears from any eyes Drop in that holy quire; But Death itself there dies, And sighs themselves expire. There should temptations cease, My frailties there should end; There should I rest in peace In the arms of my best Friend. Jerusalem on high My song and City is, My home whene'er I die, The centre of my bliss. Thy walls, sweet City, thine, With pearls are garnishéd; Thy gates with praises shine, Thy streets with gold are spread; No sun by day shines there, Nor moon by silent night; Oh no! these needless are; The Lamb's the city's Light. There dwells my LORD, my King, Judged here unfit to live; There Angels to Him sing, And lowly homage give. The Patriarchs of old There from their travels cease; The Prophets there behold Their long'd-for Prince of Peace: The Lamb's Apostles there I might with joy behold, The Harpers I might hear Harping on harps of gold: The bleeding Martyrs, they Within those courts are found, Clothéd in pure array, Their scars with glory crown'd. Ah me! Ah me! that I In Kedar's tents here stay! No place like this on high! Thither, LORD! guide my way! O happy place! When shall I be, My GOD, with Thee, To see Thy face? |