JERUSALEM the golden, With milk and honey blessed, Beneath thy contemplation Sink heart and voice oppressed! I know not, O, I know not, What joys await us there, What radiancy of glory, What light beyond compare.
They stand, those halls of Zion, All jubilant with song, And bright with many an angel, And all the martyr throng; The Prince is ever in them, The daylight is serene; The pastures of the blessèd Are decked in glorious sheen.
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, Foe ever and for ever Are clad in robes of white.
The Cross is all their splendour, The Saviour is their praise, His love and His atonement The ransomed people raise: Jesus—the Lord of glory— True God and Man they sing; Their never-failing portion, Their everlasting King.
Bernard of Morlaix (ie: Cluny), 12th century, cento from John Mason eale, 1818-66