How could we-sor'wing captive band- No, no, Jerusalem was yet, Though sad and desolate her doom, The one dear spot we'd ne'er forgetOur loved, our lost, our ruined home. All else might vandal hands destroy, But, howsoever rude they be, They could not rob us of the joy, Jerusalem, of loving thee. No light may glitter in the eye, A gladness in the heart to prove; We cannot sing, yet can we sigh, And freight each sigh with deathless love. Not for ourselves we weep alone, Though onerous our burdens be; But more for thee we make our moan, And weep, Jerusalem, for thee. But those who mock our sorrows now, sore Proud Edom and great Babylon PSALM CXXXVII. "By the rivers of Babylon." WE sat us down and wept, Where Babel's waters slept, And we thought of home and Zion as a long-gone happy dream; We hung our harps in air The foes, whose chains we wore, Exulting in our tears that told the "Sing us," they cried aloud, "Ye, once so high and proud, The songs ye sang in Zion ere we laid her glory low." Forth from her lips high thoughts and feelings gushed, "How can I Zion's songs, a captive, sing? How sing of Jordan, here by Babel's strand? How sing of Judah, in this dark, strange land? Oh Zion! if I cease for thee If for thy sad and ruined walls Or if the splendor round me thrown And make me cease to prize thy joy Oh, may this hand no more with skill Or dare to bow the knee To these poor, blind and helpless gods, Forgetful, Lord, of thee." ELIZABETH OAKES (PRINCE) SMITH (1806-1893). [PSALM CXXXVII.] BY THE WATERS OF BABYLON. B. C. 570. HERE, where I dwell, I waste to skin and bone; The curse is come upon me, and I |