Jerusalem
Our Happy Home
When shall we come to thee
When shall our sorrows have an end?
Thy joys when shall we see?
They're saying a man that scented sweet
Their palm spring on the ground
No tongue can tell, no heart can think
Oh, what joys do there abound
Jerusalem
Our Happy Home
When shall we come to thee
When shall our sorrows have an end?
Thy joys when shall we see
Fair Magdalene hath dried her tears
She'll sing no more to thee
Nor wet the ringlets of her hair
To wipe her savior's feet
Jerusalem
Our Happy Home
Then shall we come to thee
Then shall our sorrows have an end?
Thy joys shall we see