3 Thy turrets and thy pinnacles

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

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!

4 Thy saints with glory shall be crowned,
Shall see God face to face;
(They triumph still, they still rejoice,
Most happy is their case.

P Our sweet is mixed with bitter gall,
Our pleasure is but pain,

Our joys scarce last the looking on,
Our sorrows still remain.

cres.

5 Thy gardens and thy gallant walks
Continually are green,

There grow such sweet and pleasant flowers
As no where 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.

6. There trees for evermore bear fruit,
And evermore do spring;
There evermore the Angels sit,
And evermore do sing.

{Jerusalem, my happy home,

Would God I were in thee! mf Would God my woes were at an end, f Thy joys that I might see! Amen.