There's a holy and beautiful city
Whose Builder and Ruler is God;
John saw it descending from Heaven,
When Patmos, in exile, he trod;
Its high, massive wall is of jasper,
The city itself is pure gold;
And when my frail tent here is folded,
Mine eyes shall its glory behold.
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In that bright city, pearly white city,
I have a mansion, a harp, and a crown;
Now I am watching, waiting, and longing,
For the white city that's soon coming down.
No sin is allowed in that city
And nothing defiling or mean;
No pain and no sickness can enter,
No crepe on the doorknob is seen;
Earth's sorrows and cares are forgotten,
No tempter is there to annoy;
No parting words ever are spoken,
There's nothing to hurt or destroy.
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