1 Jerusalem, thou city blest,
fair home of God's elect!
No sun, in all his radiance bright,
thy glory could reflect.

2 In thee no sickness may be seen,
no hurt, no ache, no sore;
in thee there is no dread of death,
but life for evermore.

3 The blessèd saints, who've run their race,
with glory there are crowned;
nor tongue can tell, nor heart conceive
what joys in thee they've found.

4 God is their sun, and Christ their light,
they see him face to face;
the Spirit's perfect bond of love
doth every heart embrace.

5 O happy ones, in heaven who dwell,
pour forth for us your prayer,
that God our Father, through his Son,
may bring us with you there.

6 *And praise and honour be to him
whom earth and heaven obey,
for that blest saint whose festival
doth glorify this day.