preacher began to sing in a clear, sweet, tenor voice that song of
the ages, which he had learned at his mother's knee among the
green hills of Vermont--

Jerusalem the golden,
With milk and honey blest,
Beneath thy contemplation,
Sink heart and voice opprest,

I know not, oh! I know not
What joys await me there;
What radiancy of glory,
What bliss beyond compare.

They stand, those walls of Zion,
All jubilant with song,
And bright with many an angel,
And all the martyr throng.

With jasper glow thy bulwarks,
Thy streets with emeralds blaze,
The sardius and the topaz
Unite in thee their rays.

Thine ageless walls are bonded
With amethyst unpriced;

The saints build up its fabric,
The corner-stone is Christ.