1.

Jerusalem, Jerusalem, in power who’s like thee?
Thy walls and gates from ancient times have stood there.
And all thy mighty princes whom the Lord has set in thee
Are monuments to thy great strength and splendor.
Thy temple and thy priesthood, which God in thee ordained,
Thine incense, myrrh, and spices did night and day ascend,
As Levites sang, with cymbals, to God’s honor.

2.

Thou standest at earth’s navel—thou, the city of God’s choice.
As queen thou reignest o’er all earthly places.
They came in untold numbers just to hear thy wisdom’s voice.
The peoples of the earth did sing thy praises.
Had I but words within me to praise thy glory great,
Thou city in which Jesus was crucified with hate,
Then surely would my heart just break in pieces.

3.

Just as a hen doth gather all her young beneath her wings,
Would Jesus like a mother spare this city.
But loudly cried the people, “No, this Man we will not have!
O crucify Him; show to Him no pity!”
They turned from their salvation, rejected God’s own Son.
Just think of that which followed soon after this was done:
Jerusalem to ruins fell so quickly.
(Lament. 1:9)

4.

The city lieth open now, her walls razed to the ground,
The ways that lead to Zion, strewn with sadness.
The enemies that hate her have encompassed her around;
No more are feast processions held with gladness.
Jerusalem has fallen to woe and wretchedness.
Her foes sit quite securely; she’s filled with great distress.
How can my heart not overflow with sorrow?

5.

Jerusalem, Jerusalem, thou city up above,
How oft hast thou with troubles been afflicted!
They’ve stoned to death thy servants, and thy doors they’ve closed and barred.
Each bearer of the truth has been rejected.
The prophets speak for wages; the priests are whitewashed graves;
Because of people’s blindness, so very good their pay!
What else could in such darkness be expected?

6.

Jerusalem, Jerusalem, my need aloud I cry!
With grief for thee my heart is nearly breaking.
They speak about thy beauty rare, till hearts are set afire,
Yet hatefully thy servants they’re assailing.
My heart can find no comfort; my tears like rivers run.
My lamentation’s bitter o’er all that has been done,
And at thy walls my need I’m ever wailing.

7.

Jerusalem, my zeal for thee has made me so alone;
A fire within my heart for thee is lighted.
Of those who know the city, there was none whom I had known
Who could with thee in spirit be united.
But out of Judah’s thousands a little flock has come.
They’re building up the city—its walls, its gates, its homes—
With ready swords for any foe that’s sighted.

8.

Amidst my need and sorrow I aloud my God will praise,
Who set me free from Babylon’s corruption.
God’s light of life is piercing through the darkness with its rays,
With glory, joy, and health, and liberation.
A body Thou preparedst; of discord there’s no trace.
We’re grafted in together; contention has no place.
So therefore I will end my lamentation.

Written by Johan O. Smith (published in 1929)Composed by Even SkogsrudText and melody © Stiftelsen Skjulte Skatters ForlagNorway ⋅ A