Oh what high holiday, past our declaring.
Safe in his palace God's courtiers are sharing,
Rest after pilgrimage, spoil after fighting!
God, all in all, is their crown and requiting.

Truly Jerusalem's townsmen we call them,
Peace everlasting does fold and entral them;
Never they crave, but the boon has been granted,
Never that boon leaves their hope disenchanted.

Wondrous that King, and his lieges who reign there,
Wondrous the peace and the joy they attain there:
Could they but tell of that rapture, who feel it!
Had we but ears, or they words to reveal it!

Yet in the meanwhile, our eyes thither turn we;
Home of our hearts, for your loveliness yearn we:
Long though this Babylon's exile detaineth,
Yonder we press, where a city remaineth

Free from all cares that on earth can annoy us,
Sion's sweet anthems shall wholly employ us,
Grateful at last for those infinite graces,
Time nor eternity ever effaces.

Holidays still one another o'ertaking,
Give them fresh joy of their holiday making;
Still of that chorus the echoes are ringing,
Angels and men join together in singing.

Praise to the Godhead unceasingly give we,
Of whom, in whom and by whom ever live we,
God all-creating and God all sustaining,
God in three persons eternally reigning.