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One Hundred Holy Songs, Carols, and Sacred Ballads

Original, and suitable for music [by Jean Ingelow]

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[O Zion on the sacred hills]
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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66

[O Zion on the sacred hills]

“There shall in no wise enter into it anything that defileth.”

O Zion on the sacred hills,
Fair mystery of mysteries!
The noon of God her presence fills,
The city of our solemnities.
O shall I up her pathways wend,
And hear afar the rapt strange hymn,
Where shooting rainbow-lights ascend
Above the chanting seraphim?
Her golden gates all ills outbar;
The shining river through her fleets
In palmy shade; and angels are
The common people of her streets.
I know not how, if unaware
I met the Christ 'neath some fair tree,
To hear Him speak my soul could bear,
Nor die of joy and no more be.
But since Thou knowest, who dost afford
This boon above all other grace,
I trust, even I, to see the Lord,
And bear the beauty of His face.