Twelve hundred miles its length and breadth
the four square city stands
it's gem set walls of jasper shine, not made with human hands.
One hundred miles its gates are wide, abundant entrance there,
with fifty miles of elbow room, on either side to spare.
When the gates swing wide on the other side,
just beyond the sunset sea,
there'll be room to spare as we enter there,
room for you and room for me.
For the gates are wide on the other side,
where the flowers ever bloom,
on the right hand, on the left hand, fifty miles of elbow room.
Sometimes I'm cramped and crowded here,
and long for elbow room,
I want to reach for altitude where fairer flowers bloom.
It won't be long till I shall pass into that city fair,
with fifty miles of elbow room on either side to spare.