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CANTVS. XIIII.
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AS by the streames of Babi- lon, Farre from our natiue
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soile we sat, Sweet Sion, thee we thought vp- on, And eu'ry thought a teare be- gat.
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1
As by the streames of Babilon,
Farre from our natiue soyle we sat,
Sweet Sion thee we thought vpon,
And cu'••y thought a teare begat.
2
Aloft the trees that spring vp there
Our silent Harps wee pensiue hung:
Said they that captiu'd vs, Let's heare
Some song which you in Sion sung.
3
Is then the song of our God fit
To be prophan'd in forraine land?
O Salem thee when I forget
Forget his skill may my right hand!
4
Fast to the roofe cleaue may my tongue
If mindelesse I of thee be found:
Or if when all my ioyes are sung
Ierusalem be not the ground.
5
Remember Lord how Edems race
Cryed in Ierusalems sad day,
Hurle downe her wals, her towres deface,
And stone and by stone all leuell lay.
6
Curst Babels seede for Salems sake
Iust ruine yet for thee remaines:
Blest shall they be thy babes that take,
And 'gainst the stones dash out their braines.