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The Holy Catholic Church.. 467
il Urbs Syon anrea^ Patria lacteal
Jerusalem the golden,
With milk and honey blest, Beneath thy contemplation
Sink heart and voice opprest.
I know not, O I know not,
What social joys are there ; What radiancy of glory,
What light beyond compare.
They stand, those halls of Sion,
Conjubilant with song, And bright with many an angel,
And all the martyr throng.
The Prince is ever in then?;
The daylight is serene ; The pastures of the Blessed
Are decked in glorious sheen.
There is the Throne of David ;
And there, from care releas'd, The song of thorn that triumph,
The shout of them that feast.
And they, who, with their Leader,
Have conquer'd in the fight, For ever and for ever
Are clad in robes of white.
John Mason Neale. 1858. From Bernard 0/ Morlaix.
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