Hymn by Peter Damian, adapted from a mediation by Augustine of Hippo:
Claustra carnis praesto frangi clausa quaerit anima,
Gliscit, ambit, eluctatur exul frui patria.
Dum pressuris ac aerumnis se gemit obnoxiam,
Quam amisit, dum deliquit, contemplatur gloriam;
Praesens malum urget boni perditi memoriam.
Nam quis promat summae pacis quanta sit laetitia,
Ubi vivis margaritis surgunt aedificia,
Auro celsa micant tecta, radiant triclinia?
Solis gemmis pretiosis haec structura nectitur;
Auro mundo, tanquam vitro, urbis via sternitur;
Abest limus, deest fimus, lues nulla cernitur.
Hiems horrens, aestas torrens, illic nunquam saeviunt;
Flos perpetuus rosarum, ver agit perpetuum;
Candent lilia, rubescit crocus, sudat balsamum.
Virent prata, vernant sata, rivi mellis influunt;
Pigmentorum spirat odor, liquor est aromatum;
Pendent poma floridorum non lapsura nemorum.
Non alternat luna vices, sol, vel cursus siderum;
Agnus est felicis urbis lumen inocciduum;
Nox et tempus desunt ei, diem fert continuum.
Nam et sancti quisque velut sol praeclarus rutilant;
Post triumphum coronati mutuo conjubilant,
Et prostrati pugnas hostis jam securi memorant.
Omni labe defaecati, carnis bella nesciunt;
Caro facta spiritalis et mens unum sentiunt;
Pace multa perfruentes, scandalum non perferunt.
Mutabilibus exuti, repetunt originem,
Et praesentis Veritatis contemplantur speciem;
Hinc vitalem vivi fontis hauriunt dulcedinem.
Inde statum semper iidem existendi capiunt,
Clari, vividi, jucundi, nullis patent casibus:
Absunt morbi semper sanis, senectus juvenibus.
Hinc perenne tenent esse, nam transire transiit;
Inde virent, vigent, florent; corruptela corruit;
Immortalis vigor aurae mortis jus absorbuit.
Qui scientem cuncta sciunt, quid nescire nequeunt:
Nam et pectoris arcana penetrant alterutrum,
Unum volunt, unum nolunt, unitas est mentium.
Licet cuique sit diversum pro labore meritum,
Caritas hoc facit suum quod amat in altero:
Proprium sic singulonmi fit commune omnium.
Ubi corpus, illic jure congregantur aquilse,
Quo cum angelis et sanctae recreantur animae;
Uno pane vivunt cives utriusque patriae.
Avidi et semper pleni, quod habent desiderant,
Non satietas fastidit, neque fames cruciat:
Inhiantes semper edunt, et edentes inhiant.
Novas semper melodias vox meloda concrepat,
Et in jubilum prolata mulcent aures organa,
Digna per quem sunt victores, Regi dant praaconia.
Felix caeli quae praesentem Regem cernit anima,
Et sub sede spectat alta orbis volvi machinam,
Solem, lunam, et globosa cum planetis sidera.
Christe, pahna bellatorum, hoc in municipium
Introduc me post solutum mihtare cingulum,
Fac consortem donativi beatorum civium:
Praebe vires inexhausto laboranti praelio,
Nec quietem post procinctum deneges emerito,
Teque merear potiri sine fine praemio.
When shall I come to thee?
When shall my sorrows have an end?
Thy joys when shall I see?
O happy harbor of the saints!
O sweet and pleasant soil!
In thee no sorrow may be found,
No grief, no care, no toil.
In thee no sickness may be seen,
No hurt, no ache, no sore;
There is no death nor ugly devil,
There is life for evermore.
No dampish mist is seen in thee,
No cold nor darksome night;
There every soul shines as the sun;
For God himself gives light.
There lust and lucre cannot dwell;
There envy bears no sway;
There is no hunger, heat, nor cold,
But pleasure every way.
Jerusalem, Jerusalem,
God grant that I may see
Thine endless joy, and of the same
Partaker ay may be!
Thy walls are made of precious stones,
Thy bulwarks diamonds square;
Thy gates are of right orient pearl;
Exceeding rich and rare;
Thy turrets and thy pinnacles
With carbuncles do shine;
Thy very streets are paved with gold,
Surpassing clear and fine;
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 nothing doth come
That is not passing clean,
No spider’s web, no dirt, no dust,
No filth may there be seen.
Aye, my sweet home, Jerusalem,
Would God I were in thee:
Would God my woes were at an end,
Thy joys that I might see.
Thy saints are crowned with glory great;
They see God face to face;
They triumph still, they still rejoice
Most happy is their case.
We that are here in banishment
Continually do mourn:
We sigh and sob, we weep and wail,
Perpetually we groan.
Our sweet is mixed with bitter gall,
Our pleasure is but pain:
Our joys scarce last the looking on,
Our sorrows still remain.
But there they live in such delight,
Such pleasure and such play,
As that to them a thousand years
Doth seem as yesterday.
Thy vineyards and thy orchards are
Most beautiful and fair,
Full furnished with trees and fruits,
Most wonderful and rare.
Thy gardens and thy gallant walks
Continually are green:
There grow such sweet and pleasant flowers
As nowhere else are seen.
There is nectar and ambrosia made,
There is musk and civet sweet;
There many a fair and dainty drug
Is trodden under feet.
There cinnamon, there sugar grows,
Here nard and balm abound.
What tongue can tell or heart conceive
The joys that there are found?
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 be,
And evermore do sing.
There David stands with harp in hand
As master of the choir:
Ten thousand times that man were blessed
That might this music hear.
Our Lady sings Magnificat
With tune surpassing sweet,
And all the virgins bear their part,
Sitting at her feet.
There Magdalen hath left her moan,
And cheerfully doth sing
With blessèd saints, whose harmony
In every street doth ring.
Jerusalem, my happy home,
Would God I were in thee!
Would God my woes were at an end
Thy joys that I might see!