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120 The Book of Praise,
IX.
THE HOLY CATHOLIC CHURCH.
<{ And I believe one Catholic and Apostolic Church"
CVIII.
Jerusalem, my happy home,
When shall I come to thee ? When shall my sorrows have an end,
Thy joys when shall I see ?
O happy harbour of the saints !
O sweet and pleasant soil! In thee no sorrow may be found,
No grief, no care, no toil.
There lust and lucre cannot dwell,
There envy bears no sway ; There is no hunger, heat, nor cold,
But pleasure every way.
Thy walls are made of precious stones. Thy bulwarks diamonds square ;
Thy gates are of right orient pearl, Exceeding rich and rare.
Thy turrets and thy pinnacles
With carbuncles do shine ; Thy very streets are paved with gold,
Surpassing clear and fine.
A.h, my sweet home, Jerusalem,
Would God I were in thee ! Would God my woes were at an end,
Thy joys that I might see ! |
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