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As the saints in heaven adore Thee,
THE NEW JERUSALEM;
OR, THE SOUL'S BREATHING AFTER THE HEAVENLY COUNTRY.
"Since Christ's fair truth needs no man's art, Take this rude song in better part."
O MOTHER dear, Jerusalem,
When shall I come to thee?
O happy harbor of God's saints!
In thee no sorrows can be found-
In thee no sickness is at all,
No hurt, nor any sore;
But life for evermore.
No dimming cloud o'ershadows thee,
For God himself gives light.
There lust and lucre cannot dwell,
There envy bears no sway;
Would God I were in thee!
Thy joys that I might see!
No pains, no pangs, no grieving grief,
No sigh, no sob, no cry is heard—
Of God our King alone;
The Lamb of God, the light thereof,
Sits there upon His throne.
O God! that I Jerusalem
With speed may go behold!
For why? the pleasures there abound
With jasper, pearl, and chrysolite,
Thy houses are of ivory,
Thy windows crystal clear, Thy streets are laid with beaten goldThere angels do appear.
Thy walls are made of precious stone,
Thy bulwarks diamond square,
That is not passing clean;
And place me with Thy saints!
Who there are crown'd with glory great,
They triumph still, and aye rejoice—
But we that are in banishment
We sigh, we mourn, we sob, we weep-
Our sweetness mixèd is with gall,
Our pleasures are but pain,
Our sorrows aye remain.
But there they live in such delight,
Such pleasure and such play, That unto them a thousand years Seems but as yesterday.
O my sweet home, Jerusalem!
Thy joys when shall I see-
Thy vineyards, and thy orchards,
So wonderfully rare,
Are furnish'd with all kinds of fruit,
Thy gardens and thy goodly walks
There grow such sweet and pleasant flowers
As nowhere else are seen. There cinnamon and sugar grow,
There nard and balm abound;
No tongue can tell, no heart can think,
The pleasures there are found.
There nectar and ambrosia spring-
Quite through the streets, with pleasant. sound,
The flood of life doth flow; Upon the banks, on every side,
The trees of life do grow.
These trees each month yield ripen'd fruit
For evermore they spring;
And all the nations of the world
Oh! that my sorrows had an end,
There David stands, with harp in hand,
As master of the choir;
A thousand times that man were blest
"Te Deum" doth St. Ambrose sing,
Have not their songs to seek.
And cheerfully doth sing, With all blest saints whose harmony Through every street doth ring.
Thy joys fain would I see; Come quickly, Lord, and end my grief, And take me home to Thee;
Oh! paint Thy name on my forehead,
And take me hence away,
That I may dwell with Thee in bliss,
And sing Thy praises aye.
Jerusalem, the happy homeJehovah's throne on high!
O sacred city, queen, and wife
O comely queen with glory clad,
All fair thou art, exceeding bright-
I long to see Jerusalem,
The comfort of us all;
For thou art fair and beautiful-
No darkness dare appear
No night, no shade, no winter foul-No time doth alter there.
No candle needs, no moon to shine,
A Lamb unspotted, white and pure
Thine heavenly King to view.
He is the King of kings, beset
In midst His servants' sight;
Of citizens, which hence are rid
There be the prudent prophets all,
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.
Oh! happy thousand times were I,
I might with listening ears conceive
Oh! passing happy were my state,
Which here I interlace:
"O Father dear," quoth he, "let them Which Thou hast put of old
To me, be there where lo! I am
Thy glory to behold;
Which I with Thee before the world
Was made in perfect wise,
Have had from whence the fountain
Of glory doth arise."
Again: "If any man will serve
Thee, let him follow Me;
For where I am, he there, right sure,
Then shall My servant be."
Him loves My Father dear,
Lord, take away my misery,
That then I may be bold With Thee, in Thy Jerusalem, Thy glory to behold; And so in Zion see my King, My love, my Lord, my all—
Where now as in a glass I see,
There face to face I shall.
Oh! blessed are the pure in heart—
Yet search me, Lord, and find me out'
O mother dear! Jerusalem!
When shall I come to thee?
Yet once again I pray Thee, Lord,
And dwell there all my life-
And holy souls of men,
To sing Thy praise, O God of hosts! For ever and amen!
THE CELESTIAL COUNTRY.
THE world is very evil;
The times are waxing late:
Be sober and keep vigil;
The Judge is at the gate:
The Judge that comes in mercy,
To diadem the right.
To heavenly gladness lead; To the light that hath no evening,
That knows nor moon nor sun, The light so new and golden,
The light that is but one.
And when the Sole-Begotten
Shall render up once more The kingdom to the Father Whose own it was before,Then glory yet unheard of
Shall shed abroad its ray, Resolving all enigmas,
An endless Sabbath-day. Then, then from his oppressors The Hebrew shall go free, And celebrate in triumph
The year of Jubilee;
And the sunlit land that recks not
Of tempest nor of fight,
Each happy Israelite:
Of flowers that fear no thorn, Where they shall dwell as children,
Who here as exiles mourn.
Midst power that knows no limit,
Shall glad the saints around:
Divinest, sweetest, best.
And anchorage at last.
The guileless in their way, Who keep the ranks of battle, Who mean the thing they say: The peace that is for heaven,
And shall be for the earth:
With festal song and mirth;
There none can ever mourn,
'Tis peaceless peace below; Peace, endless, strifeless, ageless, The hails of Sion know:
O happy, holy portion,
Refection for the blest; True vision of true beauty,
Sweet cure of all distrest! Strive, man, to win that glory; Toil, man, to gain that light; Send hope before to grasp it,
Till hope be lost in sight: Till Jesus gives the portion
Those blessed souls to fill, The insatiate, yet satisfied,
The full, yet craving still. That fulness and that craving
Alike are free from pain, Where thou, midst heavenly citizens, A home like theirs shalt gain. Here is the warlike trumpet;
There, life set free from sin; When to the last Great Supper The faithful shall come in: When the heavenly net is laden With fishes many and great; So glorious in its fulness,
Yet so inviolate:
And the perfect from the shatter'd,
And the fall'n from them that stand, And the sheep-flock from the goat-herd Shall part on either hand!
And these shall pass to torment,
And those shall triumph, then ; The new peculiar nation,
Blest number of blest men. Jerusalem demands them:
They paid the price on earth,
Who evermore relied
The King, the Crucified:
Now bright with endless sheen, Who made the Cross their watchword Of Jesus Nazarene :
Who, fed with heavenly nectar,
Where soul-like odors play, Draw out the endless leisure
Of that long vernal day: And through the sacred lilies,
And flowers on every side, The happy dear-bought people Go wandering far and wide.