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What are those Sabbaths of joy, without end, Angels in light and the glorified spend: Rest Cor the weary; for victors reward; There God Himself all and in all adored?

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Who is the Monarch? who circle His throne? What is the calm restful bliss of His own? Tell us, ye blessed ones worshiping there, Tell us, if words can your rapture declare.

Oh true Jerusalem, city most bright, Whose perfect peace is eternal delight; Longings in thee are fulfilled ere expressed: More than was long'd for embraced and possessed.

Troubles all past, in the courts of our King, We without fear Zion's anthems shall sing, Offering Thee, Lord, in Thy presence above Love's pure responses for gifts of thy love.

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There never Sabbath to Sabbath give place: One is their Sabbath who gaze on Thy face, There never cease heaven's jubilee songs, Chanted by saints and by sweet angel tongues.

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Meantime in heart and with faith-winged prayers, Seek we our Fatherland yonder and theirs: While to Jerusalem bounden we roam, Exiles returning from Babylon home.

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Now before Him we adoringly fall, Of whom and through whom and in whom are all; Of whom the Father, and through whom the Son, In whom the Spirit of Both, ever One.