Far from Our Holy Place

By the Waters of Babylon
by Christina Rossetti

By the waters of Babylon
We sit down and weep,
Far from the pleasant land
Where our fathers sleep;
Far from our Holy Place
From which the Glory is gone;
We sit in dust and weep
By the waters of Babylon.

By the waters of Babylon
The willow trees grow rank:
We hang our harps thereon
Silent upon the bank.
Before us the days are dark,
And dark the days that are gone;
We grope in the very dark
By the waters of Babylon.

By the waters of Babylon
We thirst for Jordan yet,
We pine for Jerusalem
Whereon our hearts are set:
Our priests defiled and slain,
Our princes ashamed and gone,
Oh how should we forget
By the waters of Babylon?

By the waters of Babylon
Tho' the wicked grind the just,
Our seed shall yet strike root
And shall shoot up from the dust:
The captive shall lead captive,
The slave rise up and begone,
And thou too shalt sit in dust
O daughter of Babylon.