Psalm 137

1. Along the banks where Babel's current flows,
2. The tuneless harp that once with joy we strung,
Our captive bands in deep despondence strayed,
When praise employed and mirth inspired the lay,
While Zion's fall in sad remembrance rose,
In mournful silence on the willows hung.
Her friends, her children, mingled with the dead.
And growing grief prolonged the tedious day.

3. The barbarous tyrants, to increase the woe,
With taunting smiles a song of Zion claim;
Bid sacred praise in strains melodious flow,
While they blaspheme the great Jehovah's name.

4. But how, in heathen chains and lands unknown,
Shall Israel's sons, a song of Zion raise?
O hapless Salem, God's terrestial throne,
Thou land of glory, sacred mount of praise.

5. If e'er my memory lose thy lovely name,
If my cold heart neglect my kindred race,
Let dire destructions seize this guilty frame;
My hand shall perish and my voice shall cease.

6. Yet shall the Lord, who hears when Zion calls,
O'ertake her foes, with terror and dismay,
His arm avenge her desolated walls,
And raise her children to eternal day.
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