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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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