Chilled Harold - By the Waters of Babylon Lyrics

In the valley of waters we wept on the day
When the host of the Stranger made Salem his prey
And our heads on our bosoms all droopingly lay
And our hearts were so full of the land far away!

The song they demanded in vain-it lay still
In our souls as the wind that hath died on the hill
They called for the harp-but our blood they shall spill
Ere our right hands shall teach them one tone of their skill

All stringlessly hung in the willow's sad tree
As dead as her dead-leaf those mute harps must be:
Our hands may be fettered-our tears still are free
For our God-and our Glory-and Sion Oh Thee!