Jerusalem, ah! can it be,
A prophet dies outside of thee?
How oft, hadst thou been willing,
Thy Lord had clasped thee to His breast
As hen the hatchlings of her nest,
Her down their tremors stilling!
But thou wouldst not endure their word,
Soon as "Amend thy ways" was heard,
Their blood, all blameless, spilling.
Thou Church, ah! city of the Lord,
Take care to heed the trusty word
Of them Christ sends to warn thee;
For full account will He demand
How they had nourished thee by hand
And in their bosom borne thee.
Think, ere their counsels thou oppose,
How at the present age's close
Their witness will adorn thee!
But now, behold! For all the world
Comes in the name of God the Lord
The Prophet long awaited:
Rejected by His native town,
He bears the nation's pious frown,
By priest and elder hated.
He works, He suffers and He dies,
Upon the third day to arise,
God's justice satiated.
Thou holy city, chosen flock,
As citizens of heaven walk,
Christ eagerly expecting.
He will thy lowliness reshape,
Thy body in His image drape,
Thy blemishes correcting.
Stand fast in Christ, dear joy and crown,
Till yet once more He cometh down,
All things at last perfecting.
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