Psalm 137

When we sat down by the rivers of Babylon we wept as we remembered Zion.

We hung up our harps on the willow trees.

For those who had taken us captive asked us for a song—our tormentors wanted us to sing a happy song from Jerusalem.

But how could we sing a song dedicated to the Lord in a pagan land?

If I forget Jerusalem, may my right hand forget how to play;

May my tongue stick to the roof of my mouth if I don't remember you—if I don't consider Jerusalem my greatest joy.

Lord, please remember what the people of Edom did on the day Jerusalem fell, the ones who said “Tear it down! Destroy it down to its foundations!”

Daughter of Babylon, you will be destroyed! Happy is the one who pays you back, who does to you what you did to us!

Happy is the one who grabs your children and smashes them against the rocks!