Jerusalem the golden, with milk and honey blest,
Beneath thy contemplation sink heart and voice oppressed;
I know not, oh I know not, what joys await us there,
What radiancy of glory, what bliss beyond compare!
That we should look, poor wanderers, to have our home on high!
That worms should seek for dwellings beyond the starry sky!
And now we fight the battle, but then shall wear the crown
Of full and everlasting and passionless renown.
And now we watch and struggle, and now we live in hope,
And Zion in her anguish with Babylon must cope;
But He whom now we trust in shall then be seen and known,
And they that know and see Him shall have Him for their own.
Brief life is here our portion, brief sorrow, short-lived care;
The life that knows no ending, the tearless life, is there.
Oh happy retribution! Short toil, eternal rest;
For mortals and for sinners, a mansion with the blest.
Jerusalem the glorious! Glory of the elect!
O dear and future vision that eager hearts expect!
E’en now by faith I see thee, e’en here thy walls discern;
To thee my thoughts are kindled, and strive, and pant, and yearn.
There is the throne of David, and there, from care released,
The shout of them that triumph, the song of them that feast;
And they, who with their Leader, have conquered in the fight,
Forever and forever are clad in robes of white.
Bernard of Morlaix, 1146