Psalm 137

By the waters of Babylon we sat down and wept, *

when we remembered you, O Zion.

As for our harps, we hung them up *

on the trees in the midst of that land.

For those who led us away captive asked us for a song,

and our oppressors called for mirth: *

“Sing us one of the songs of Zion.”

How shall we sing the Lord’s song *

upon an alien soil?

If I forget you, O Jerusalem, *

let my right hand forget its skill.

Let my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth

if I do not remember you, *

if I do not set Jerusalem above my highest joy.

Remember the day of Jerusalem, O Lord,

against the people of Edom, *

who said, “Down with it! down with it!

even to the ground!”

O Daughter of Babylon, doomed to destruction, *

happy the one who pays you back

for what you have done to us!

Happy shall he be who takes your little ones, *

and dashes them against the rock!