To the beautiful city of saints I go
Like a beggar with empty hands.
Beyond the heart, beyond the eyes
That beautiful city stands.
There is no day there, there is no night,
Only a soft green wonderful Light
Of an endless lingering harvest lies
Over it's quite lands.
I will go to that beautiful city
Like a beggar with quietly open palms,
And the saints with sinless, shadow less eyes
Will, hearing the sound of my beggar's cries
Open the glimmering door of the skies
And call me in and gave me alms.
For the saints are beautiful kings who hoard
In secret treasure-caverns above
The princess gold of the Name of the Lord,
White pearls of the peace, red rubies of love.
