| (Chorus) | |
| 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 | |
| Chorus | |
| Forever more the trees bear fruit | |
| And ever more they spring | |
| And ever more the saints are glad | |
| And ever more they sing | |
| Chorus | |
| Fair Magdalene, she hath less moan | |
| Likewise there she doth sing | |
| The happy saints in harmony | |
| Through every street doth ring | |
| Chorus | |
| Fair Magdalene hath dried her tears | |
| She's seen no more to weep | |
| Nor wet the ringlets of her hair | |
| To wipe her savior's feet | |
| Chorus |
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