As by the streams of Babylon

As by the streams of Babylon
Far from our native soil we sat,
Sweet Sion, thee we thought upon,
And every thought a tear begat.

Aloft the trees, that spring up there,
Our silent harps we pensive hung:
Said they that captived us, "Let's hear
Some song, which you in Sion sung!"

Is then the song of our God fit
To be profaned in foreign land?
O Salem, thee when I forget,
Forget his skill may my right hand!

Fast to the roof cleave may my tongue,
If mindless I of thee be found!
Or if, when all my joys are sung,
Jerusalem be not the ground!

Remember, Lord, how Edom's race
Cried in Jerusalem's sad day,
"Hurl down her walls, her towers deface,
And, stone by stone, all level lay!"

Curst Babel's seed! for Salem's sake
Just ruin yet for thee remains!
Blest shall they be thy babes that take
And 'gainst the stones dash out their brains!