Psalm 137

Psalm 137

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!

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