By Babel’s streams we sat and wept in pain,
For Zion’s songs the foe demanded there.
Our harps on willows hung, no joyful strain,
How sing God’s praise in foreign land’s despair?
If I forget thee, Zion, let my hand
Lose skill, my tongue to palate cleave and stay.
If I not set thee first in heart’s command,
Above my joy, let all my song decay.
O Lord, recall how Edom’s sons did cry,
“Raze Zion down!” and Babel’s cruel decree.
Their seed accursed, their ruin drawing nigh,
Thy vengeance just, their end shall bitter be.
imaginate.pro 