1 JERUSALEM, my happy home,

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.

2 No dampish mist is seen in thee,
No 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.

3 Thy gardens and thy gallant walks
Continually are green;

There grow 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.

4 Thy saints are crowned with glory great, They see God face to face;

They triumph still, they still rejoice;
Most happy is their case;

For there they live in such delight,
Such pleasure and such play,
As that to them a thousand years
Doth seem as yesterday.

5 There Magdalene hath left her moan,
And cheerfully doth sing
With blessed saints, whose harmony
In every street doth ring.
Ah, my sweet home Jerusalem,
Would God I were in thee!

Would God my woes were at an end

Thy joys that I might see!

Based on a Latin original,

from a xvi C. MS signed "F. B. P." arr.

Fling

A-men.