A Marching Song

1 We mix from many lands,
We march for very far;
In hearts and lips and hands
Our staffs and weapons are;
The light we walk in darkens
The sun and moon and star.

2 It doth not flame and wane
With years and spheres that roll,
Storm cannot shake nor stain
The strength that makes it whole,
The fire that molds and moves it
Is of the sovereign Soul.

3 From edge of harsh derision,
From discord and defeat,
From doubt and lame division,
We pluck the fruit and eat;
The mouth does find it bitter,
The spirit finds it sweet.

4 O nations undivided,
O single people and free,
Derided dreamers we,
We mad blind men that see,
We bear you witness ere
Ye come that ye shall be.

5 Ye sitting midst the tombs,
Ye standing round the gate,
Whom fire-mouthed war consumes,
Or cold-lipped peace bids wait,
All tombs and bars shall open,
Each sepulcher, grave, and grate.

6 O sorrowing hearts of slaves,
We heard you beat from far!
We bring the Light that saves,
We bring the Morning Star;
The gifts of freedom we bring,
From whence all blessings are.

7 Rise, ere the dawn be risen;
Come, all ye souls, be fed;
From prison, field and street,
Come, for the feast is spread;
Live, for the Truth is living;
Wake, for the night is dead.

Source: The Cyber Hymnal #14412

• MIDI file from The Cyber Hymnal #14412