|
Original Text
|
Blessed city, heavenly Salem, Vision dear of peace and love,
Who, of living stones art builded, In the height of heav'n above
And by Angel hands apparell'd Thither faithful souls do soar.
And, with angel hosts apparelled
As a bride doth earthward move, Out of heav'n from God descending, New and ready to be wed To thy Lord, Whose love espous'd thee, Fair adorn'd shalt thou be led; All thy gates and all thy bulwards of pure gold are fashioned
Bright her gates of pearl are shining, They are open evermore;
And, their well earn'd rest attaining, Thither faithful souls do soar.
Who for Christ's dear name in this world Pain and tribulation bore.
Many a blow and biting sculpture Polish'd well those stones elect,
In their places now compacted By the heavenly architect.
Never more to leave the temple,
Which with them the Lord hath decked.
To this temple where we call thee,
Come O Lord of Hosts, today; With Thy wonted loving kindness
Hear Thy servants as they pray
And Thy fullest benediction shed within its walls away.
Amen
|
|
|
|
