Page:Oxford Book of English Verse 1250-1900.djvu/118

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

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

Thy gardens and thy gallant walks Continually are green; There grows such sweet and pleasant flowers As nowhere else are seen.

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.

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

Our Lady sings Magnificat With tones surpassing sweet; And all the virgins bear their part, Sitting about her feet.

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