And then we wear the Crown
     Of full and everlasting
        And passionless renown: 
     Then glory, yet unheard of,
        Shall shed abroad its ray;
     Resolving all enigmas,
        An endless Sabbath-day. 
     Then, then, from his oppressors
        The Hebrew shall go free,
     And celebrate in triumph
        The year of Jubilee: 
     And the sun-lit land that recks not
        Of tempest or of fight
     Shall fold within its bosom
        Each happy Israelite. 
     ’Midst power that knows no limit,
        And wisdom free from bound,
     The Beatific Vision
        Shall glad the Saints around;
     And peace, for war is needless,
        And rest, for storm is past,
     And goal from finished labor,
        And anchorage at last. 
     There God, my King and Portion,
        In fullness of His Grace,
     Shall we behold forever,
        And worship face to face;
     There Jacob into Israel,
        From earthlier self estranged,
     And Leah into Rachel
        Forever shall be changed;
     There all the halls of Syon
        For aye shall be complete: 
     And in the land of Beauty
        All things of beauty meet. 
     To thee, O dear, dear country! 
        Mine eyes their vigils keep;
     For very love, beholding
        Thy happy name, they weep: 
     The mention of Thy glory
        Is unction to the breast,
     And medicine in sickness,
        And love, and life, and rest. 
     O one, O onely mansion! 
        O Paradise of joy! 
     Where tears are ever banished,
        And smiles have no alloy: 
     Beside thy living waters
        All plants are, great and small;
     The cedar of the forest,
        The hyssop of the wall;
     With jaspers glow thy bulwarks,
        Thy streets with emeralds blaze;
     The sardius and the topaz
        Unite in thee their rays;
     Thine ageless walls are bonded
        With amethyst unpriced;
     Thy saints build up its fabric,
        And the Corner-stone is CHRIST.
     Thou hast no shore, fair Ocean! 
        Thou hast no time, bright Day! 
     Dear fountain of refreshment
        To pilgrims far away! 
     Upon the Rock of Ages
        They raise thy holy Tower. 
     Thine is the Victor’s laurel,
        And thine the golden dower. 
     Thou feel’st in mystic rapture,
        O Bride that know’st no guile,
     The Prince’s sweetest kisses,
        The Prince’s loveliest smile. 
     Unfading lilies, bracelets
        Of living pearl, thine own;
     The Lamb is ever near thee,
        The Bridegroom thine alone;
     And all thine endless leisure
        In sweetest accents sings
     The ills that were thy merit,
        The joys that are thy King’s.