If I forget you, Jerusalem, may my hand forget its skill,
May my voice be silenced, may my tongue be stilled.
How can we praise You in a land that's not our own?
How can we worship when we're still so far from home?
By the rivers of Babylon, we wept and hung our harps,
Longing for the day that You would set us free.
By the rivers of Babylon, You taught us how to cry.
You taught us to believe.
-- Jeremy Erickson --