Sitting by the streams
Language:
English
Sitting by the streams that glide
Down by Babel's tow'ring wall,
With our tears we fill'd the tide,
Whilst our mindful thoughts recall
Thee, O Sion, and they fall.
Our neglected harps unstrung,
Not acquainted with the hand
Of the skilful tuner, hung
On the willow-trees that stand
Planted in the neighbour land.
Yet the spiteful foe commands
Songs of mirth, and bids us lay
To dumb harps our captive hands;
And, to scoff our sorrow, say,
"Sing us some sweet Hebrew lay!"
But say we, "Our holy strain
Is too pure for heathen land;
Nor may we God's hymns profane,
Or move either voice or hand
To delight a savage band."
Holy Salem, if thy love
Fall from my forgetful heart,
May the skill by which I move
Strings of music tun'd by art,
From my wither'd hand depart.
Authorship
Based on
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text),
listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive)
Date added to the website: 2003-11-04.
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