O what their joy and their glory must be,
Those endless Sabbaths the bless-ed ones see!
Crown for the valiant; to weary ones rest;
God shall be all, and in all ever blest.
What are the Monarch, his court, and his throne?
What are the peace and the joy that they own?
Tell us, ye blest ones, that in it have share,
If what ye feel ye can fully declare.
Truly Jerusalem name we that shore,
‘Vision of peace,’ that brings joy evermore!
Wish and fulfilment can severed be ne’er,
Nor the thing prayed for come short of the prayer.
We, where no trouble distraction can bring,
Safely the anthems of Sion shall sing;
While for thy grace, Lord, their voices of praise
Thy bless-ed people shall evermore raise.
There dawns no Sabbath, no Sabbath is o’er,
Those Sabbath-keepers have one and no more;
One and unending is that triumph-song
Which to the Angels and us shall belong.
Now, in the meanwhile, with hearts raised on high,
We for that country must yearn and must sigh,
Seeking Jerusalem, dear native land,
Through our long exile on Babylon’s strand.
Low before him with our praises we fall,
Of whom, and in whom, and through whom are all;
Of whom, the Father; and through whom, the Son;
In whom, the Spirit, with these ever One.
– O quanta qualia sunt illa Sabbata,
P. Abelard, 1079-1142. Tr. J. M. Neale