Beside the rivers of Babylon, we sat and wept as we thought of Jerusalem.
We put away our harps, hanging them on the branches of poplar trees.
For our captors demanded a song from us. Our tormentors insisted on a joyful hymn: “Sing us one of those songs of Jerusalem!”
But how can we sing the songs of the LORD while in a pagan land?
If I forget you, O Jerusalem, let my right hand forget how to play the harp.
May my tongue stick to the roof of my mouth if I fail to remember you, if I don’t make Jerusalem my greatest joy.
O LORD, remember what the Edomites did on the day the armies of Babylon captured Jerusalem. “Destroy it!” they yelled. “Level it to the ground!”
O Babylon, you will be destroyed. Happy is the one who pays you back for what you have done to us.
Happy is the one who takes your babies and smashes them against the rocks!