Thou heavenly, new Jerusalem, Vision of peace in prophet's dream! With living stones built up on high, And rising to yon starry sky; In bridal pomp thy form is crowned, With thousand thousand Angels round! O Bride, betrothed in happy hour, The Father's glory is thy dower; The Bridegroom's grace is shed on thee Thou Queen all fair eternally; To Christ allied, thy Prince adored, Bright shining city of the Lord! Behold with pearls they glittering stand Thy peaceful gates to all expand; By grace and strength divinely shed Each mortal thither may be led; Who, kindled by Christ's love, will dare All earthly sufferings now to bear. By many a salutary stroke, By many a weary blow that broke, Or polished with a workman's skill, The stones that form that glorious pile, They all are fitly framed to lie In their appointed place on high. Fair and well-pleasing in Thy sight, Parent most high, enthroned in light, And for Thine only Son most meet, And Thee, all-glorious Paraclete, To whom praise, power, and glory rise Forever through the eternal skies.