SACRED MELODY.
| By the rivers of Babel we flung Ourselves on the earth in despair— Our harps on the willow-trees hung, And wept for thee, Zion, afar. For those who had made us their prey, And bore us as captives along, Then proudly demanded a lay— To sing them, oh! Zion, thy song! But the spoiler shall ask it in vain: We will not this triumph accord— He never shall list to the strain That wafted the praise of the Lord. For perish the hand that would string The harp, unremembering thy woe, And cursed be the tongue that would sing, Oh! Zion, thy songs for the foe. |