Jerusalem My Happy Home Jerusalem, my happy home, 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. Thy gardens and thy gallant walks Continually are green; There grow such sweet and pleasant flowers As nowhere else are seen. There trees forevermore bear fruit And evermore do spring; There evermore the angels sit And evermore do sing. Jerusalem, my happy home, Would God I were in thee! Would God my woes were at an end, Thy joys that I might see!