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THE CAPTIVE ISRAELITE.
“We hanged our harps upon the willows.” Psalm cxxxvii.
1
“HOW shall we our grief express,“When no Zion's towers we see!
“We, our harps, in heaviness,
“Hang upon the willow tree!
2
“Lords of Babylon, depart!“Insults not on injuries heap!
“Pangs, untold, oppress our heart,
“When, at morn, we wake to weep!
3
“Ask us not for Israel's song!“Ill becomes the sportive strain,
“When, to us, and ours, belong
“Sorrow, and the captive's chain!
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4
“Strangers, in a foreign land,“Now oppress'd, who once were free;
“We, our harps, by breezes fann'd,
“Hang upon the willow tree!
5
“Let the whispering winds awake,“Airs that, but for them, might sleep;
“We will not the stillness break;
“We will solemn silence keep!
6
“Yet, the thought will sometimes rise,“Sweet by Kedron's brook it were,
“At the morning sacrifice;
“At the evening hour of prayer;
7
“While Jehovah we adore,(“In his ways, the great profound!)
“Our divinest notes to pour,
“With responding thousands round!
8
“Days of mourning we fulfil;“Oh! that we the end might see!
“Sad, — her harp shall Israel still,
“Hang upon the willow tree!”
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