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 one 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? Forever more the trees perfumed And ever more they spring And ever more the saints are glad And ever more they sing 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, she hath less moan Likewise there she doth sing The happy saints in harmony Through every street doth ring 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 weep 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? Thy joys when shall we see?