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And did those feet in ancient times |
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Walk upon England's mountains green? |
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And was the holy lamb of God |
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On England's pleasant pasture's scene? |
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And did the countenance divine |
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Shined forth upon our clouded hills |
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And was Jerusalem built here |
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Among those dark satanic mills? |
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Bring me my bow of burning gold |
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Bring me my arrows of desire |
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Bring me my spear, o clouds unfold |
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Bring me my chariot of fire |
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I will not seize from mental fight |
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Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand |
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Till we have built Jerusalem, |
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In England's green and pleasant land |
