Our enemy, our captor is no pharaoh on the Nile

Our toil is neither mud nor brick nor sand

Our ankles bear no calluses from chains, yet Lord, we're bound

Imprisoned here, we dwell in our own land


Deliver us, deliver us

Oh Yahweh, hear our cry

And gather us beneath your wings tonight


Our sins they are more numerous than all the lambs we slay

These shackles they were made with our own hands

Our toil is our atonement and our freedom yours to give

So Yahweh, break your silence if you can


Chorus


'Jerusalem, Jerusalem

How often I have longed

To gather you beneath my gentle wings'