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Jerusalem my happy home

A song made by F. B. P.
To the tune of DIANA.

Poet: F. B. P. (probably Francis Baker, Priest), c. 1600
Meter: Common Meter (8,6,8,6)
Location in The Sacred Harp
Stanza Denson Cooper
Jerusalem my happy home
When shall I come to thee
When shall my sorrows have an end
Thy joys when shall I see

O happy harbor of the saints
O sweet and pleasant soil
In thee no sorrow may be found
No grief, no care, no toil

In thee no sickness may be seen
No hurt, no ache, no sore
There is no death, no ugly devil
There is life for evermore.

No dampish mist is seen in thee
No cold, nor darksome night
There every soul shines as the sun
There God himself gives light

There lust and lucre cannot dwell
There envy bears no sway
There is no hunger, heat, nor cold
But pleasure every way

Jerusalem; Jerusalem
God grant I once may see
Thy endless joys and of the same
Partaker aye to be

Thy walls are made of precious stones
Thy bulwarks diamonds square
Thy gates are of right orient pearl
Exceeding rich and rare

Thy turrets and thy pinnacles
With carbuncles do shine
Thy very streets are paved with gold
Surpassing clear and fine

Thy houses are of ivory
Thy windows crystal clear
Thy tiles are made of beaten gold
O God that I were there

Within thy gates no thing doth come
That is not passing clean
No spiders web, no dirt, no dust
No filth may there be seen

Ah my sweet home Jerusalem
Would God I were in thee
Would God my woes were at an end
Thy joys that I might see

Thy saints are crowned with glory great
They see God face to face
They triumph still, they still rejoice
Most happy is their case

We that are here in banishment
Continually do mourn
We sigh and sob, we weep and wail
Perpetually we groan

Our sweet is mixed with bitter gall
Our pleasure is but pain
Our joys scarce last the looking on
Our sorrows still remain

But there they live in such delight
Such pleasure and such play
As that to them a thousand years
Doth seem as yesterday

Thy vineyards and thy orchards are
Most beautiful and fair
Full furnished with trees and fruits
Most wonderful and rare

Thy gardens and thy gallant walks
Continually are green
There grow such sweet and pleasant flowers
As nowhere else are seen

There is nectar and ambrosia made
There is musk and civet sweet
There many a fair and dainty drug
Are trodden under feet

There cinnamon, there sugar grows
There nard and balm abound
What tongue can tell or heart conceive
The joys that there are found

Quite through the streets with silver sound
The flood of life doth flow
Upon whose banks on every side
The wood of life doth grow

There trees for evermore bear fruit
And evermore do spring
There evermore the angels sit
And evermore do sing

There David stands with harp in hand
As master of the quire
Ten thousand times that man were blest
That might this music hear

Our lady sings Magnificat
With tune surpassing sweet
And all the virgins bear their parts
Sitting above her feet

Te Deum doth Saint Ambrose sing
Saint Augustine doth the like
Old Simeon and Zachary
Have not their songs to seek

There Magdalene hath left her moan
And cheerfully doth sing
With blessed saints whose harmony
In every street doth ring

Jerusalem my happy home
Would God I were in thee
Would God my woes were at an end
Thy joys that I might see

Rewritten variations of this hymn tune:
Jerusalem, my happy home,, published in Collection of Sacred Ballads by Andrew and Richard Broaddus in 1790.
Julian, John. A Dictionary of Hymnology: Setting Forth the Origin and History of Christian Hymns of All Ages and Nations with Special Reference to Those Contained in the Hymn Books of English-Speaking Countries, and Now in Common Use. New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1892.