The Beautiful City of God

With man­sions of fair­ness

And beau­ty

and rare­ness

And streets with a pave­ment of gold;

Where no one grows wea­ry

No pros­pect is drea­ry

And no one can ev­er grow old.

Oh

there is a ci­ty

a beau­ti­ful ci­ty

Whose build­er and mak­er is God;

A far away ci­ty

a won­der­ful ci­ty

The beau­ti­ful ci­ty of God.

Its riv­ers of glad­ness

Will ban­ish all sad­ness

And sor­rows shall van­ish away;

The moon shall not light­en

The sun shall not bright­en

That ci­ty by night or by day.

But light will be giv­en

All storm clouds be riv­en

From ov­er that city of God;

We’ll view then in won­der

Thro’ all that may sun­der

The path that in sor­row we trod.

No sor­row or sigh­ing

Nor ang­uish or dy­ing

Can sha­dow the bliss of that home;

And pil­grims who rest there

Forever are blest there

Nor yearn in their rap­ture to roam.