And did Those feet, in ancient time

Walk upon Columbia's mountains, green?

Sandaled, Calloused, vain to rhyme,

The footprints of The Carpenter, strong and keen.

And was the Holy Lamb of God

On America's pleasant pastures seen?

Did the Lord of Hosts tread o'er our sod,

Leaving not a trace for Men to see?

And did the Countenance Divine

Shine forth upon our clouded hills?

And was Jerusalem builded here

Amidst the bleak, New England mills?

And, from the East, o'er oceans, Wild,

Did Heaven Above shine on our sires?

And was Jerusalem builded here

Among these dark Satanic Subway-Cars?

Bring me my helm of burning Faith:

Bring me my hauberk of desire:

Bring me Christendom's fiery mace,

O clouds unfold: Bring me my cleaving-iron.

Bring me my chariot of piety,

The bow of Truth, and arrows of The Word;

Bring me the swift steed of Charity,

And Godspeed, Time, fetch me my sword.

I will not cease from mental fight,

Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand

Till we have built Jerusalem

In Columbia's green and pleasant land.