The Hymnal ‎#622

622. O mother dear, Jerusalem

1 O Mother dear, Jerusalem,
When shall I come to thee?
When shall my sorrows have an end?
Thy joys when shall I see?

2 O happy harbor of the saints!
O sweet and pleasant soil!
In thee no sorrow may be found,
No grief, no care, no toil.

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

4 Thy turrets and thy pinnacles
With carbuncles do shine;
Thy very streets are paved with gold,
Surpassing clear and fine.

5 Thy gardens and thy gallant walks
Continually are green,
They grow such sweet and pleasant flowers
As nowhere else are seen.

6 Quite through the streets, with silver sound,
The flood of life doth flow,
Upon whose banks, on either side
The wood of life doth grow.

7 There trees for evermore bear fruit,
And evermore do spring:
There evermore the angels sit
And evermore do sing.

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

Amen.

Text Information

• First Line: O mother dear, Jerusalem
• Author (v. 1, line 1): W. Prid (1585)
• Author: F. B. P.
• Language: English
• Publication Date: 1895
• Source: Mss. of 16th or 17th cent.

Tune Information

(No tune information)