Post-Millenialism.

Last night as I lay sleeping,
there came a dream so fair:
I stood in old Jerusalem
beside the temple there.

I heard the children singing,
and ever as they sang
I heard the voice of angels
from heav'n in answer rang.

I heard the voice of angels
from heav'n in answer rang:

"Jerusalem! Jerusalem!
Lift up your gates and sing
Hosanna in the highest!
Hosanna to your King.

And then I saw my dream was changed,
the streets no longer rang.
Hushed were the glad hosannas
the little children sang.
The sun grew dark with mystery;
the morn was cold and chill
As the shadow of a cross
arose upon a lonely hill,
As the shadow of a cross arose upon a lonely hill.
"Jerusalem! Jerusalem!"
Hark, how the angels sing:
"Hosanna in the highest! Hosanna to your King!"

And once again the scene was chang'd,
new earth there seemed to be.
I saw the holy city beside the tideless sea.

The light of God was on her streets,
the gates were opened wide
And all who would might enter,
and no one was denied.
No need for moon or stars by night,
or sun to shine by day.

It was the New Jerusalem that will not pass away.
It was the New Jerusalem that will not pass away!

Jerusalem! Jerusalem! Sing for the night is o'er!
Hosanna in the highest! Hosanna for evermore!