An Ancient Poem by Editor

The Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Sep 19, 1865

An Ancient Poem.

By Editor

THE following poem, which we name as above, is a Roman Catholic production of the age of Queen Elizabeth. It is a celebrated piece of composition and is doubtless the original of that well-known hymn, "Jerusalem! my happy home." Although not oneself of a poetic turn, we pronounce it beautiful verse, equally rich in idea. There is a Catholic tinge in verses 23 and 24, which the reader will readily pardon, and also a little error in David's standing "harp in hand," "master of the choir," at present; Acts ii, 34; but locate these acts in the future, and it will be gloriously true. G.

Jerusalem! my happy home! When shall I come to thee, When shall my sorrows have an end, Thy joys when shall I see?

II.

O happy harbor of the saints, O sweet and pleasant soil, In thee no sorrow may be found, No grief, no care, no toil.

III.

In thee no sickness may be seen, No hurt, no ache, no sore; There is no death, no ugly deil, There's life for evermore.

IV.

No dampish mist is seen in thee, No cold or darksome night; There every soul shines as the sun, There God himself gives light.

There lust and lucre cannot dwell, There envy bears no sway; There is no hunger, heat, or cold, But pleasures every way.

VI.

Jerusalem! Jerusalem! God grant I once may see Thy endless joys, and of the same, Partaker aye to be.

VII.

Thy walls are made of precious stones, Thy bulwarks, diamonds square, Thy gates are of right orient pearl, Exceeding rich and rare.

VIII.

Thy turrets and thy pinnacles With carbuncles do shine, Thy very streets are paved with gold, Surpassing clear and fine.

IX.

Thy houses are of ivory, Thy windows crystal clear, Thy tiles are made of beaten gold; O God, that I were there!

Within thy gates no thing doth come That is not passing clean, No spider's web, no dirt, no dust, No filth may there be seen.

XI.

Ah, my sweet home, Jerusalem, Would God I were in thee, Would God my woes were at an end, Thy joys that I might see.

XII.

Thy saints are crowned with glory great, They see God face to face, They triumph still, they still rejoice, Most happy is their case.

XIII.

We that are here in banishment, Continually do moan; We sigh and sob, we weep and wail, Perpetually we groan.

XIV.

Our sweet is mixed with bitter gall, Our pleasure is but pain, Our joys scarce last the looking on, Our sorrows still remain.

XV.

But there they live in such delight, Such pleasure, and such play, As that to them a thousand years Doth seem as yesterday.

XVI.

Thy vineyards and thy orchards are Most beautiful and fair, Full furnished with trees and fruits, Most wonderful and rare.

XVII.

Thy gardens and thy pleasant walks Continually are green: There grow such sweet and pleasant flowers As nowhere else are seen.

XVIII.

There's nectar and ambrosia made, There's musk and civit sweet, There many a fair and dainty drug Are trodden under feet.

XIX.

There cinnamon, there sugar grows, There nard and balm abound; What tongue can tell, or heart conceive The joys that there are found?

XX.

Quite through the streets, with silver sound, The flood of life doth flow, Upon whose banks, on every side, The wood of life doth grow.

XXI.

There trees for evermore bear fruit, And evermore do spring; There evermore the angels sit, And evermore do sing.

XXII.

There David stands with harp in hand, As master of the choir; Ten thousand times that man were blest That might this music hear.

XXIII.

Our lady sings Magnificat, With tune surpassing sweet, And all the virgins bear their parts, Sitting above her feet.

XXIV.

Te Deum doth Saint Ambrose sing, Saint Austine doth the like; Old Simeon and Zachary Have not their song to seek.

XXV.

There Magdalene hath left her moan, And cheerfully doth sing, With blessed saints whose harmony In every street doth ring.

XXVI.

Jerusalem, my happy home! Would God I were in thee, Would God my woes were at an end, Thy joys that I might see!