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'