By the dark Euphrates' stream,
By the Tigris, sad and lone
I wandered, a captive maid;
And the cruel Assyrian said,
“Awake your harp's sweet tone!”
I had heard of my fathers' glory from the lips of holy men,
And I thought of the land of my fathers; I thought of my fathers' land then.
Another is—
O church of Christ! our blest abode,
Celestial grace is thine.