Jerusalem
Our Happy Home
When shall we come to thee
When shall our sorrows have an end?
Thy joys when shall we see?

They see no man that sent her there
Their palms spring from the ground
No tongue can tell, no heart can think
What joys do there abound

Jerusalem
Our Happy Home
When shall we come to thee
When shall our sorrows have an end?
Thy joys when shall we see

Fair Magdalene hath dried her tears
She’ll sing no more to thee
Nor wet the ringlets of her hair
To wash her savior’s feet

Jerusalem
Our Happy Home
When shall we come to thee
When shall our sorrows have an end?
The joys when shall we see