251
PSALM CXXXVII.
Y the waters of Babylon wearied we lay,Amidst us how many a sorrowful breast!
For we sadly remembered our homes far away,
Yea, we wept when we thought upon Zion the blest.
Our harps, whose loved tones of soft melody gave
A voice to our joy in those loveliest bowers,
We hung on the willows that wept o'er the wave,
As if in soft pity for sorrow like ours.
A voice to our joy in those loveliest bowers,
We hung on the willows that wept o'er the wave,
As if in soft pity for sorrow like ours.
But the foes who oppressed us in bondage and fear,
Asked music and mirth of a heart-broken band,
And they who had torn us from all we held dear,
Cried, "Sing us a song of your beautiful land!"
Asked music and mirth of a heart-broken band,
And they who had torn us from all we held dear,
Cried, "Sing us a song of your beautiful land!"
But oh, how shall we pour forth Thy melody, Lord,
In a land where as strangers and bondmen we roam;
Oh, how shall we here wake the echoing chord,
Which so often has gladdened our own happy home!
In a land where as strangers and bondmen we roam;
Oh, how shall we here wake the echoing chord,
Which so often has gladdened our own happy home!
If I e'er should forget thee, O Zion, beloved,
Let my hand never sweep the bright harpstrings again;
Let my tongue rest for ever in silence unmoved,
If I love Thee not more than all earth can contain.
Let my hand never sweep the bright harpstrings again;
Let my tongue rest for ever in silence unmoved,
If I love Thee not more than all earth can contain.
