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.