The whole world lies in evil. The times are waxing late.
Be sober and keep vigil. The judge is at the gate,
The judge that comes in mercy, the judge that comes with might
	To terminate the evil, to diadem the right.
And when the sole-begotten shall render up once more
The kingdom to the father whose own it was before,
Then glory yet unheard of shall shed abroad its ray,
	Resolving all enigmas, an endless Sabbath-day. 
Brief life is here our portion, brief sorrow, short-liv’d care;
The life that knows no ending, the tearless life, is there.
O happy retribution! Short toil, eternal rest;
	For mortals and for sinners, a mansion with the blest!
There grief is turned to pleasure, such pleasure as, till then,
No human voice can utter, beyond all human ken,
And now we fight the battle, but then shall wear the crown 
	Of full and everlasting and passionless renown.
And now we watch and struggle, and now we live in hope, 
And Zion in her anguish with Babylon must cope,
But he in whom we now trust shall then be seen and known, 
	And they that know and see him shall have him for their own.
Jerusalem the golden, with milk and honey blest,
Beneath thy contemplation sink heart and voice, oppress'd.
I know not, O I know not what social joys are there,
	What radiancy of glory, what light beyond compare.
They stand, those halls of Zion, conjubilant 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 blessed are deck'd in glorious sheen. 
There is the throne of David, and there, from care releas'd, 
The song of them that triumph, the shout of them that feast,
And they, who with their leader have conquered in the fight,
	For ever and for ever are clad in robes of white.
Jerusalem the glorious, glory of the elect,
O dear and future vision that eager hearts expect,
E'en now by faith I see thee, e'en here thy walls discern;
	To thee my thoughts are kindl'd, and strive and pant and yearn.
For thee, O dear dear country, mine eyes their vigils keep; 
For very love, beholding thy happy name, they weep.
The mention of thy glory is unction to the breast, 
	And medicine in sickness, and love, and life, and rest.
Jerusalem the only, that look’st from Heav'n below, 
In thee is all my glory; in me is all my woe.
And though my body may not, my spirit seeks thee fain,
	Till flesh and earth return me to earth and flesh again.
Jerusalem, exulting on that securest shore,
I hope thee, wish thee, sing thee, and love thee evermore.
I ask not for my merit. I seek not to deny
	My merit is destruction; a child of wrath am I.
But yet with faith I venture and hope upon my way.
For those perennial guerdons I labour night and day.
The best and dearest father who made me and who sav'd
	Bore with me in defilement, and from defilement lav'd.
O sweet and blessed country, shall I e'er see thy face?
O sweet and blessed country, shall I e'er win thy grace?
I have the hope within me to comfort and to bless.
	Shall I e'er win the prize then? O tell me, tell me "Yes"!
Strive, soul, to win that glory! Toil, soul, to gain that light!
Send hope before to grasp it, till hope be lost in sight!
Exult, O dust and ashes, the lord shall be thy part;
	His only, his for ever thou shalt be, and thou art.