In thee, Jerusalem, I say,
No darkness dare appear--
No night, no shade, no winter foul--
No time doth alter there.
No candle needs, no moon to shine,
No glittering star to light;
For Christ, the king of righteousness,
For ever shineth bright.
A lamb unspotted, white and pure,
To thee doth stand in lieu
Of light--so great the glory is
Thine heavenly king to view.
He is the King of kings beset
In midst His servants' sight:
And they, His happy household all,
Do serve Him day and night.
There, there the choir of angels sing--
There the supernal sort
Of citizens, which hence are rid
From dangers deep, do sport.
There be the prudent prophets all,
The apostles six and six,
The glorious martyrs in a row,
And confessors betwixt.
There doth the crew of righteous men
And matrons all consist--
Young men and maids that here on earth
Their pleasures did resist.
The sheep and lambs, that hardly 'scaped
The snare of death and hell,
Triumph in joy eternally,
Whereof no tongue can tell;
And though the glory of each one
Doth differ in degree,
Yet is the joy of all alike
And common, as we see.
There love and charity do reign,
And Christ is all in all,
Whom they most perfectly behold
In joy celestial.
They love, they praise--they praise, they love;
They "Holy, holy," cry;
They neither toil, nor faint, nor end,
But laud continually.
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