What are those Sabbaths of joy without aid,

Angels in light and the glorified spend;

Rest for the weary; for victors reward;

There God Himself all and in all adored?

Who is the Monarch? Who circle His throne?

What is the cairn restful bliss of His own?

Tell us, ye blessed ones worshiping tee,

Tell us if words can your rapture declare.

Oh true Jerusalem, city most bright

Whose perfect peace is eternal delight;

Longings in thee are fulfill’d, ere express’d:

More than was long’d for embraced and possess.

Troubles all past, in die courts of our King

We without fear Zion’s anthems shall sing,

Off’ring Thee, Lord, in Thy presence above

Love's pure responses for gifts of Thy love.

There never Sabbath to Sabbath give place:

One is their Sabbath who gaze on Thy face.

There never cease heaven’s jubilee songs,

Chanted by saints and by sweet angel tongues.

Meantime in heart and with faith-winged prayers

Seek we our Fatherland yonder and theirs:

while to Jerusalem bounden we roam,

Exiles returning from Babylon home.

Now before Him we adoringly fall,

Of whom and through whom and in whom are all;

Of whom the Father, and through Whom the Son,

In whom the Spirit of Both, ever One.