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'