Psalm 137

By the streams of Babylon

We remembered Zion’s hill.

There we sat and wept in grief;

On the trees our harps lay still.

For our captors asked for songs;

Our tormentors called for mirth:

“Sing us one of Zion’s songs

From the land that gave you birth.”

How can we sing to the LORD,

Exiles in a foreign land?

If Jerus’lem I forget,

Skill depart from my right hand!

May my tongue cling to my mouth

If of Zion I lose sight,

If I prize Jerusalem

Less than my supreme delight.

LORD, remember Edom’s sin,

When Jerus’lem met its fate.

“Tear it down!” their voices cried,

“Tear down every wall and gate!”

Babylon, for all our pain

At your door destruction knocks.

Happy he who pays you back,

Throws your children on the rocks.