1 O holy city, seen of John,
Where Christ the Lamb, does reign,
Within whose foursquare walls shall come
No night, nor need, nor pain,
And where the tears are wiped from eyes
That shall not weep again.

2 O shame to us who rest content
While lust and greed for gain
In street and shop and tenement
Wring gold from human pain,
And bitter lips in blind despair
Cry “Christ has died in vain!”

3 Give us, O God, the strength to build
The city that hath stood
Too long a dream, whose laws are love,
Whose ways are servanthood,
And where the sun that shines becomes
God’s grace for human good.

4 Already in the mind of God
That city rises fair:
Lo, how its splendor challenges
The souls that greatly dare;
And bids us seize the whole of life
And build its glory there.