Words: Psalm 137 L.M. from The Psalter Hymnal, 1927 ed.
Music: Davide C. Marney, 2006
By Babel's waters we sat and wept
For memory still to Zion clung;
The winds alone our harpstrings swept,
That on the weeping willows hung.
There our rude captors, flushed in their pride
A song required to mock our wrongs;
Our spoilers called for songs of mirth,
"Come sing us one of Zion's songs."
Not songs but sighs to us belong
When Zion's walls in ruin lie;
How shall we sing Jehovah's song
While in an alien land we die?
O Zion fair, God's holy hill
Wherein our God delights to dwell,
Let my right hand forget her skill
If I forget to love thee well.