There we sat and wept,
when we remembered Zion. We hung up our harps
on the willows of that land where we were.
There, those who led us captive asked for songs;
those who tormented us demanded songs of joy:
“Sing us one of the songs of Zion!” How can we sing the songs of the Lord
in a foreign land? If I forget you,
Jerusalem, let my right hand forget its skill.
Let my tongue stick to the roof of my mouth,
Lord, but do not forget the sons of Edom in the day of Jerusalem,
who say: “Raze it, even to its foundation!”
Daughter of Babylon, doomed to destruction –
he will be happy who rewards you as you have served us.
He will dash your children against a rock.

I will give you thanks with my whole heart.
Before the angels I will sing praises. I will bow down
towards your holy temple. You have given my soul great strength.
All the kings of the earth will praise you, and will sing,
for great is the glory of the Lord. He looks after the lowly,
but the proud he knows from afar. I walk through great trouble.
Your right hand will save me; your loving kindness endures forever.
Do not forsake the works of your own hands.