"Your Harps, Ye Trembling Saints"

A hymn written by Augustus Toplady. (in short meter)

Psalms 137:1-4
By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat down, yea, we wept,
When we remembered Zion.
We hanged our harps
Upon the willows in the midst thereof.
For there they that carried us away captive required of us a song; And they that wasted us required of us mirth, saying,
Sing us one of the songs of Zion.

How shall we sing
The LORD's song in a strange land?


"Your Harps, Ye Trembling Saints"

1. Your harps, ye trembling saints,
Down from the willows take;
Loud to the praise of love divine
Bid ev'ry string awake.

2. Though in a foreign land,
We are not far from home;
And nearer to our house above
We ev'ry moment come.

3. His grace will to the end
Stronger and brighter shine;
Nor present things, nor things to come,
Shall quench the spark divine.

4. When we in darkness walk,
Nor feel the heav'nly flame,
Then is the time to trust our God,
And rest upon His Name.

5. Soon shall our doubts and fears
Subside at His control;
His loving-kindness shall break through
The midnight of the soul.

6. Blest is the man, O God,
That stays himself on Thee;
Who wait for Thy salvation, Lord,
Shall Thy salvation see.