Jerusalem my happy home.

Hierusalem, my happie home,
when shall I come to thee?
When shall my sorrowes have an end?
thy ioyes when shall I see?

Oh happie harbour of the saintes,
O sweet and pleasant soyle,
In thee noe sorrow may be founde,
noe greefe, noe care, noe toyle.

In thee noe sickness may be seene,
Noe hurt, noe ache, no sore:
There is noe death nor vglie devill,
there is life for euermore.

No dampish mist is sene in thee,
noe could nor darksome night;
There everie soule shines as the sunne,
there god himselfe giues light.

There lust and lukar cannot dwell,
there envie bears noe sway;
There is noe hunger, heate, nor coulde,
but pleasure everie way.

Hierusalem, Hierusalem,
god grant I once may see
Thy endlesse ioyes, and of the same
partaker aye to bee.

Thy wales are made of precious stones;
thy bulwarkes, diamondes square;
Thy gates are of right Orient pearle,
exceeding rich and rare.

Thy terrettes and thy Pinacles
with Carbuncles doe shine;
Thy verie streetes are paued with gould,
surpassing cleare and fine.

Thy houses are of Ivorie,
thy windows Cristale cleare;
Thy tyles are mad of beaten gould,-
O god, that I were there.

Within thy gates noethinge doeth come
that is not passing cleane;
Noe spider's web, noe durt, noe dust,
noe filthe may there be seene,

Ay my sweete home, hierusaleme,
would god I were in thee;
Would god my woes were at an end,
thy ioyes that I might see!

Thy saintes are crown'd with glorie great,
they see god face to face;
They triumph still, they still reioyce,
most happie is their case.

Wee that are heere in banishment,
continuallie doe mourne;
We sighe and sobbe, we weepe and weale,
perpetually we groane.

Our sweete is mixt with bitter gaule,
our pleasure is but paine,
Our ioyes scarce last the lookeing on,
our sorrows still remaine;

But there they liue in such delight,
such pleasure, and such play,
As that to them a thouand years
doth seeme as yeaster-day.

Thy Viniardes and thy Orchardes are
most beutifull and faire,
Full furnished with trees and fruites,
most wonderfull and rare.

Thy gardens and thy gallant walkes
continually are greene;
There growes such sweete and plesant flowers
as noe where eles are seene.

There is nector and Ambrosia made,
there is muske and Civette sweete;
There is manie a faire and dainte drugge
are troden vnder feete.

There Cinomon, there sugar, growes;
there narde and balme abound.
What tounge can tell or hart conceiue,
the ioyes that there are found?

[Thy happy Saints (Ierusalem)
doe bathe in endlesse blisse:
None but those bleesed soules can tell
how great thy glory is.] [interpoled verse]

Quyt through the streetes with siluer sound
the flood of life doe flowe;
Vpon whose bankes, on everie syde,
the wood of life doth growe.

There trees for euermore beare fruite,
and evermore doe springe;
There euermore the Angels sit,
and evermore doe singe.

There David standes, with harpe in hand,
as maister of the Queere. [Choir
Tenne thousand times that man were blest
that might this musique heare.

Our Ladie sings magnificat,
with tune surpassinge sweete,
And all the virginns beare their partes,
sitinge aboue her feete.

Te Deum doth sant Ambrose singe,
saint Augustine dothe the like;
Ould Simeon and Zacharie
haue not their songes to seeke.

There Magdalene hath left her mone,
and cheerfullie doth singe,
With blessed saintes whose harmonie
in everie streete doth ringe.

Hierusalem, my happie home
would god I were in thee;
Would god my woes were at an end,
thy ioyes that I might see!

"Jerusalem, my happy home" from Rollins' 'Old Engish Ballads', taken from BL MS Addl. 15,225. Rollins also, in PMLA, gave another version as "The Queristers song of yorke in praise of heaven" from the Shane MS, c 1615-26, BL MS Addl. 38,559. There is a short version in 'Shirburn Ballads', and a late unreprinted broadside copy in the Rawlinson collection at the Bodleian. One is signed F. B. P. and a few suggestions (one rather ridiculous) have been made as to who this might be (that assumes there is a name represented). The song was sung to "O man in desparation" which may or may not be the tune given in Simpson's 'The British Broadside Ballad and Its Music'. Evidence is weak.

Four verses of this song were copied into a book in the Folger Shakespeare Library, saying this was written in by a I[J]. Leighe, in 1587, and that he was born in 1567, and died in 1629. This is puts the song in the middle of the period when the tune was popular, and this seems to be the best evidence yet as to the author.

Helen Schneyer sings a short modern version on a phono-record. "The Romish Lady" (ZN1518) was originally sung to the same tune, but "The Romish Lady", #37 in G. P. Jackson's 'White Spirituals' was not the tune for "Jerusalem" in the 19th century shape note songsters. Instead #67, "Never Part, Never Part" was. [I can't remember the alternate 1st line in the old Presbyterian hymnal.] There was a "New Jerusalem" in an American psalm book of 1796, 'The Village Harmony', with a tune by Ingalls, but I don't have song or tune.