When shall my labours have an end,

In joy, and peace, and thee?

When shall these eyes thy heav’n-built walls

And pearly gates behold,

Thy bulwarks with salvation strong

And streets of shining gold?

There happier bowers than Eden’s bloom,

Nor sin nor sorrow know:

Blest seats, through rude and stormy scenes

I onward press to you.

Why should I shrink at pain and woe,

Or feel at death dismay?

I’ve Canaan’s goodly land in view,

And realms of endless day.

Apostles, martyrs, prophets there

Around my Saviour stand;

And soon my friends in Christ below

Will join the glorious hand.

Jerusalem, my happy home,

My soul still pants, for thee!

Then shall my labours have an end

When I thy joys shall see.