Jerusalem the golden, With milk and honey blest, Beneath thy contemplation Sink heart and voice opprest, I know not, O I know not What joys await us there, What radiancy of glory, What light beyond compare. They stand, those halls of Sion, 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 blessèd Are decked in glorious sheen. There is the throne of David; And there, from care released, The song of them that triumph, The shout of them that feast; And they who with their Leader Have conquered in the fight, Forever and forever Are clad in robes of white.