404. Jerusalem on high
Jerusalem on high
My song and city is,
My home whene'er I die,
The centre of my bliss:
O happy place,
When shall I be,
My God, with Thee,
To see Thy Face?
There dwells my Lord, my King,
Judged here unfit to live;
There Angels to Him sing,
And lowly homage give:
O happy place,
When shall I be,
My God, with thee,
To see Thy Face?
The Patriarchs of old
There from their travels cease;
The Prophets there behold
Their longed-for Prince of Peace!
O happy place,
When shall I be,
My God, with Thee,
To see Thy Face?
The Lamb's Apostles there
I might with joy behold,
The harpers I might hear
Harping on harps of gold;
O happy place,
When shall I be,
My God, with Thee,
To see Thy Face?
The bleeding Martyrs, they
Within these courts are found,
Clothed in pure array,
Their scars with glorv crowned;
O happy place,
When shall I be,
My God, with Thee,
To see Thy Face?
Ah me! ah me! that I
In Keclar's tents here stay;
No place like that on high;
Lord, thither guide my way:
O happy place,
When shall I be,
My God, with Thee,
To see Thy Face?