Not in entire forgetfulness,

And not in utter nakedness,

But trailing clouds of glory do we come,
From God, who is our home:

Heaven lies about us in our infancy!
Shades of the prison-house begin to close
Upon the growing boy;

He beholds the light, and whence it flows,
He sees it in his joy;

The Youth who farther from the east

Must travel, still is Nature's priest,

And by the vision splendid is on his way attended; At length the Man perceives it die away, And fade into the light of common day.

XII. THE NATURE OF THE FUTURE Life

a.

THE MEDIEVAL

SUPERNAL

CONCEPTION-THE CITY

b. THE MODERN CONCEPTION

1. There Is Future Life, but We Do Not

Know What It Is

2. We Are Builders of the City now

XII. THE NATURE OF THE FUTURE LIFE

a.

THE MEDIEVAL CONCEPTION-THE CITY SUPERNAL

JERUSALEM, MY HAPPY HOME

ANONYMOUS (From the Latin.)

Jerusalem, my happy home,

When shall I come to thee?
When shall my sorrows have an end?
Thy joys when shall I see?
O happy harbor of the saints!
O sweet and pleasant soil!
In thee no sorrow may be found,
No grief, no care, no toil.

Thy gardens and thy gallant walks

Continually are green;

There grow such sweet and pleasant flowers
As nowhere else are seen;

Quite through the streets with silver sound
The flood of life doth flow,

Upon whose banks on every side

The wood of life doth grow.

The saints are crowned with glory great,
They see God face to face;

They triumph still, they still rejoice;
Most happy is their case;

For there they live in such delight,

Such pleasure and such play,
As that to them a thousand years,
Doth seem as yesterday.

There Magdalene hath left her moan,
And cheerfully doth sing

With blessed saints, whose harmony
In every street doth ring.
Ah, my sweet home Jerusalem,
Would God I were in thee!
Would God my woes were at an end
Thy joys that I might see!

JERUSALEM, THE GOLDEN

BERNARD OF CLUNY

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 walls of Zion,
All jubilant with song,

And bright with many an angel,
And all the martyr throng:

The Prince is ever in them

The daylight is serene;
The pastures of the blest

Are decked in glorious sheen.

There is the throne of David;

And there from care released, The song of them that triumph,

The shout of them that feast; And they, who with their Leader Have conquered in the fight, Forever and forever

Are clad in robes of white.