Where the mothers of sons never cease their weeping 
where the fathers of faith in the ground lie sleeping 
where the seeds of time have a whirlwind reaping 
oh, Jerusalem is.
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                         
Where the cobblestones wet with the blood of ages
hear the echo of wheels turning history's pages - 
the cries of fools stilled the words of sages 
oh, Jerusalem is. 

'neath an olive tree branch anyone can listen 
to the song of songs as the green leaves glisten. 
A summer rain falls and the raindrops christen 
what Jerusalem is. 

And the river runs on and the world keeps turning
and the water's cold though the sands are burning 
the mountains know while we still are learning 
what Jerusalem is. 

Oh, when will tomorrow's sons 
tomorrow's daughters 
never taste of the bread cast upon the waters 
put down the sword that performed the slaughters 
Where Jerusalem is ? 

Where the cobblestones wet with the blood of ages 
hear the echo of wheels turning history's pages -
the cries of fools stilled the words of sages 
oh, Jerusalem is......

'neath an olive tree branch anyone can listen 
to the song of songs as the green leaves glisten. 
A summer rain falls and the raindrops christen 
what Jerusalem is.

And the river of the rivers runs on and the world keeps turning
and the water's cold though the sands are burning 
the mountains know while we still are learning 
what Jerusalem is.

And the river of the rivers runs on and the world keeps turning
and the water's cold though the sands are burning 
the mountains know while we still are learning 
what Jerusalem is.

Oh, when will tomorrow's sons 
tomorrow's daughters 
never taste of the bread cast upon the waters 
put down the sword that performed the slaughters 
Where Jerusalem is?

Where the mothers of sons never cease their weeping 
where the fathers of faith in the ground lie sleeping 
where the seeds of time have a whirlwind reaping 
oh, Jerusalem is.