"Our harps, that when with joy we sung
Were wont their tuneful parts to bear,
With silent strings neglected hung
On willow trees that withered there.
"Oh, Salem! once our happy seat,
When I of thee forgetful prove,
Then let my trembling hand forget
These speaking strings with art to move!
"Again we hail the sacred hall,
That echoed to our youthful lays!
And Amonober's children all
Have reached their home to end their days.
"To thee, Almighty King of kings,
In new-made hymns my voice I'll raise,
And instruments of many strings
Shall help me to adore and praise.
"How sweet to die in Judah's dale,
And with the fathers calmly rest;
The thought of sleeping in yon vale,
How soothing to my throbbing breast!
"A few more days of grief and pain,
And then adieu to every gloom,
For soon we all shall meet again,
Beyond the portals of the tomb."
The old harp of Judah has also returned from the captivity, and is once
more safely lodged in its own native Jerusalem, whence Esrom bore it to
the land of strangers a century before.
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