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 Shall pass thy gates, Jerusalem the New! In Thee, O Holy City, crowned with grace, Builded of gems imperishable, with walls Of adamant that sin and woe debar, O'erarched by skies serene without a sun, And watered with pure, living streams, that flow For ever from beneath the Mount of God— In Thee, fulfilled, and more, each promise stands.

Nor this alone. For lo! the Lamb himself From the eternal throne—where "in the midst As one that hath been slain" He yet appears, Wielding all princely power o'er earth and Heaven, With "many crowns" on that once bleeding Head— Full oft descends, with gentlest mien, to walk All lovingly, a Bridegroom with his Bride, Rejoicing o'er her in her bridal robes, White as the light and lustrous as the sun. In dear companionship amid the throng By his own pangs redeemed, now tenderly