JERUSALEM the Golden!
I weary for one Gleam
Of all thy glory folden
In distance and in dream!
My thoughts, like Palms in Exile,
Climb up to look and pray
For a glimpse of thy dear Country
That lies so far away!

Jerusalem the Golden!
Methinks each flower that blows,
And every bird a-singing,
Of thee some secret knows;
I know not what the Flowers
Can feel, or Singers see,
But all these summer raptures
Seem prophecies of thee.

Jerusalem the Golden!
When Sunset's in the West,
It seems thy gate of glory,
Thou City of the Blest!
And Midnight's starry torches
Through intermediate gloom,
Are waving with our welcome
To thy Eternal Home!

Jerusalem the Golden!
Where loftily they sing,
O'er pain and sorrows olden
For ever triumphing;
Lowly may be the portal
And dark may be the door,
The Mansion is Immortal—
God's palace for His Poor!

Jerusalem the Golden!
There all our Birds that flew—
Our Flowers but half-unfolden,
Our Pearls that turned to dew,—
And all the glad life-music,
Now heard no longer here,
Shall come again to greet us
As we are drawing near.

Jerusalem the Golden!
I toil on day by day;
Heart-sore each night with longing,
I stretch my hands and pray,
That 'mid thy leaves of Healing
My soul may find a nest;
Where the troubles are all over,—
The Weary are at rest!