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.