England! awake! awake! awake! 
 Jerusalem thy Sister calls! 
 Why wilt thou sleep the sleep of death 
 And close her from thy ancient walls? 

 Thy hills and valleys felt her feet 
 Gently upon their bosoms move: 
 Thy gates beheld sweet Zion's ways: 
 Then was a time of joy and love. 

 And now the time returns again: 
 Our souls exult, and London's towers 
 Receive the Lamb of God to dwell 
 In England's green and pleasant bowers.