"Yea, sing us one of Zion's songs!" How can our voices thus expand To what to us and God belongs? How can we on this heathen shore, Surrounded by idolatry, Sing songs that unto us are more Than all their glittering pageantry? Jerusalem, should we forget, We pray our hearts and tongues be still! Jerusalem! Oh, may we yet Worship upon thy holy hill. Babylon, thou art to be destroyed! Thy doom's foretold in prophecy; And happy be the means employed To hurl thee to thy destiny. THE LIVING WATER I that speak unto thee am he.—John 4:26. She left her home that morn In fair Samaria's land, All heedless of her state forlorn,