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lee's songbook

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The Fainting General
Dedicated to Franklin Pierce
To the tune of DOLLY DAY

We've told you 'bout the warrior,
The broken sword and stump,
And how our gallant Taylor
Made extra wages lump;
And now we'll sing about the man
The Locos would elect,
Because he was not in the fight
At old Chapultepec.

Chorus
Oh, Fainting Frank, in the rear rank,
Went riding round and round,
And when he heard the battle clank,
He tumbled to the ground.

'Tis true that Pierce ne'er broke his sword
As did heroic Cass,
Yet he has reached the heights of fame
On Locofoco gas;

Head foremost from his battle steed
Their warrior-chief was hurled;
At ground and lofty tumbling then,
Frank Pierce can beat the world.

Frank's military prowess
The Democrats applaud,
But these claims for their hero
Are all a cheat and fraud;
For Pierce's valor, history says,
Was subject to restraint -
His dread attack at Contreras
Was nothing but a feint.

Pierce did bring up the war supplies -
And here his force was large -
In this engagement truth will find
His only deadly charge;

On! on! to victory or death,
He led the baggage train;
He fought and fell, but lived to tell -
He was not with the slain.

Since Pierce ne'er won by warlike deeds
A nation's gratitude,
He never will again resume
A hostile attitude;
For while he "loathes" the negro law,
He loves the Compromise,
But has given up, for health and fame,
Equestrian exercise.

Our platform and our leader
The people have endors'd;
Scott is too great a soldier
To ever be unhors'd!
He'll give Pierce such a somerset,
And all the fainting crew,
That they, with him, will not survive
The FALL of '52!

 


Fair Ella Lee

Music By N. Barker

Lay her where the woodbine clingeth
To the dark magnolia tree;
Where the breeze low music bringeth
From the bosom of the sea.
With a sorrowful devotion,
Lay her where sweet violets be;
Where the leaves keep gentle motion
To the breathing of the sea.

There, there lay her,
There, there leave her,
Our young Ella,
Ella Lee.
Ever blooming as the summer,
Ever humming like the bee;
We believed her some bright being,
From the land where souls are free.

 O, she was so sweet and holy,
Mortal ne'er could lovelier be,
And she left us bright and slowly,
As the sunset leaves the sea.
Yes we've lost her,
Ever lost her,
Our fair Ella,
Ella Lee.

Boston: Oliver Ditson


fAITHLESS NELLY GRAY
Thomas Hood
1826

Ben Battle was a soldier bold, and used to war's alarms;
But a cannonball took off his legs, so he laid down his arms!

Now as they bore him off the field, said he, "Let others shoot,
For here I leave my second leg, and the Forty-second Foot."

The army surgeons made him limbs; said he, "They're only pegs;
But there's as wooden members quite, as represent my legs!"

Now Ben he loved a pretty maid, her name was Nelly Gray;
So he went to pay her his devours, when he'd devoured his pay.

But when he called on Nelly Gray, she made him quite a scoff;
And when she saw his wooden legs, began to take them off.

"O, Nelly Gray! O, Nelly Gray! Is this your love so warm?
The love that loves a scarlet coat should be more uniform!"

Said she, "I loved a soldier once, for he was blythe and brave;
But I will never love a man with both legs in the grave!"


"Before you had those timber toes, your love I did allow;
But then, you know, you stand upon another footing now!"

"O, Nelly Gray! O, Nelly Gray! For all your jeering speeches,
At duty's call, I left my legs in Badajo's breaches."

"Why, then," said she, "You've lost the feet of legs in war's alarms,
And now you cannot wear your shoes upon your feats of arms."

"O, false and fickle Nelly Gray! I know why you refuse:
Though I've no feet - some other man is standing in my shoes!

"I wish I ne'er had seen your face; but, now, a long farewell!
For you will be my death; Alas! You will not be my Nell!"

Now when he went from Nelly Gray, his heart so heavy got,
And life was such a burthen grown, it made him take a knot!


So round his melancholy neck, a rope he did entwine,
And, for his second time of life, enlisted in the line!

One end he tied around a beam, and then removed his pegs;
And, as his legs were off, of course, he soon was off his legs.

And there he hung, till he was dead as any nail in town,
For though distress had cut him up, it could not cut him down.

A dozen men sat on his corpse to find out why he died;
And they buried Ben in four crossroads, with a stake in his inside !

 


FAITH'S REVIEW AND EXPECTATION

John Newton

Amazing grace! How sweet the sound That saved a wretch like me!
I once was lost, but now am found; Was blind, but now I see.

'Twas grace that taught my heart to fear, and grace my fears relieved;
How precious did that grace appear the hour I first believed.

Through many dangers, toils and snares I have already come;
'Tis grace hath brought me safe thus far, and grace will lead me home.

The Lord has promised good to me, His Word my hope secures;
He will my shield and portion be as long as life endures.

Yea, when this flesh and heart shall fail, and mortal life shall cease,
I shall possess, within the veil, a life of joy and peace.

The world shall soon dissolve like snow, the sun refuse to shine;
But God, who called me here below, shall be forever mine.


FAREWELL, MY LILLY DEAR

Stephen Collins Foster
1851

Oh! Lilly dear, it grieves me, the tale I have to tell;
Old Massa sends me roaming, so Lilly, fare-you-well!
Oh! fare-you-well my true love, farewell old Tennessee;
Then let me weep for you love, but do not weep for me.

Chorus
Farewell forever to Old Tennessee;
Farewell my Lilly dear, don't weep for me.

I's guine to roam the wide world in lands I've never hoed,
With nothing but my banjo to cheer me on the road;
For when I'm sad and weary, I'll make the banjo play
To mind me of my true love when I am far away.

I wake up in the morning, and walk out on the farm;
Oh! Lilly am a darling - she take me by the arm.
We wander through the clover down by the river side;
I tell her that I love her and she must be my bride.

Oh! Lilly dear, 'tis mournful to leave you here alone;
You'll smile before I leave you and weep when I am gone.
The sun can never shine, love, so bright for you and me
As when I worked beside you in good old Tennessee.


Fat And Greasy
Words By John F. Poole
To the tune of GAY AND HAPPY or FREE AND EASY
1863

I'm the gal that's fat and greasy,
And for pleasure I go in;
I can always take things easy,
But I likes my drop of gin. 

Chorus
So let the world jog as it will,
I'll be fat and greasy still;
Fat and greasy, large and lazy,
I'll be fat and greasy still. 

There's a young man that I fancy,
And I know he fancies me;
But he thinks I'm rayther heavy,
When I drops upon his knee. 


When we're out, he says he finds it
Quite expensive to treat me;
For I can stow away the victuals
In a style most or-ful-lee! 

Horace Greely wants to wed me,
With that famed white coat and hat;
He says he's fond of my complexion,
Though he thinks I'm rather fat. 

To the Central Park we went a-skating -
Oh, gilhooly! Wa'nt it nice?
And a young man there informed me
That I was a "big thing on ice." 


Some folks say that I'm not handsome:
Lest this slander round should buzz,
I can prove that I'm a beauty -
For "handsome is that handsome does." 

Now, if a young man wants to marry,
I'm "to let"- who'll have me now?
And to Grace Church with Mr. Barnum
We'll go and pledge the marriage vow.

From Fattie Stewart's Comic Songster
Published By Dick & Fitzgerald, New York, 1863



The Field Of Antietam
To the tune of LAST ROSE OF SUMMER
1862

On the field of Antietam
The battle was fought;
By the blood of the valiant
The victory was bought.
The heart of the nation
In rapture and woe,
O'er the field of Antietam
Bends prayerful and low.

On the field of Antietam
Our bravest went down;
Death's chaplet of cypress
The laurel did crown.
But, oh, as eternal
As memory, shall be
The red field of Antietam
In the hearts of the free.

On the field of Antietam
Lie buried the dead.
With the great hills around them,
The stars overhead.
Like those stars in the heavens
Eternal shall shine
O'er the field of Antietam
Their glory divine. 


the fine old color'd gentleman
Written & Composed by Dan Emmett
1843

In Tennessee as I've heard say
There once did used to dwell
A fine old color'd gentleman
And this nigger know'd him well;
Dey used to call him Sambo
Or somethin' near de same,
And de reason why dey call'd him so
Was because it was his name.
O Sambo was a gentleman,
One of de oldest kind.

His temper was very mild
When he was let alone,
But when you get him dander up
He spunk to de backbone;
He wail de sugar off you
By double rule of three,
And whip his weight in wildcats
When he got on a spree.
O Sambo was a gentleman,
One of de oldest kind.

He had a good old banjo
So well he kept it strung,
He used to sing de good old song
Of go it while you're young;
He sung so long and sung so loud
It scared de pigs and goats,
Because he took a pint of yeast
To raise de highest notes.
O Sambo was a gentleman,
One of de oldest kind.

When dis nigger stood upright
And wasn't slantin' 'dicular
He measured 'bout eleven feet,
He wasn't very particular;
Or he could jump and run a race
And do a little hoppin',
And when he got a goin' fast
De devil couldn't stop him.
O Sambo was a gentleman,
One of de oldest kind.

Old age come on, his teeth dropp'd out,
It made no odds to him;
He eat as many taters
And he drink as many gin;
He swallow'd two small railroads
Wid a spoonful of ice cream
And a locomotive bulgine
While dey blowin' off de steam.
O Sambo was a gentleman,
One of de oldest kind.

One very windy morning
Dis good ol' nigger died;
De niggers come from other states
And loud wid joy dey cried;
He layin' down upon a bench
As straight as any post;
De coons dey roar, de possums howl
When he guv up de ghost.
O Sambo was a gentleman,
One of de oldest kind.

Boston: 1843

 


fire Away!
The Song Of Ringgold's Artillerists

To the tune of THE CAMPBELLS ARE COMING

The Mexican bandits have crossed to our shore;
Our soil has been dyed with our countrymen's gore.
The murderer's triumph was theirs for a day - 
Our triumph is coming - So fire - fire away!
Be steady - be steady - and firm every hand -
Pour your shot like a storm on the murderous band.
On their flanks, on their center, our batteries play -
And we sweep them like chaff, as we fire - fire away!

Lo! the smoke-wreaths uprising! The belching flames tear
Wide gaps through the curtain, revealing despair.
Torn flutters their banner, no oriflamme gay:
They are wavering - sinking - So fire - fire away!
'Tis over - the thunders have died on the gale - 
Of the wounded and vanquished, Hark! hark the wail!
Long the foreign invader shall mourn the day
When Ringgold was summoned to fire- fire away!

One of the keys to America's victory in Mexico was the superiority of its artillery. One of the men responsible for this was Major Samuel Ringgold, who was mortally wounded at Palo Alto in May of 1846.


Flight Of Doodles
To the tune of ROOT, HOG, OR DIE

I come from Mannassas
With a pocket full of fun,
I killed forty Yankees
With a single-barreled gun.
It don't make a niff-a-stiff'rence
To neither you nor I
Big Yankee, Little Yankee,
All run or die. 

I saw all the Yankees
At Bull Run
They fought like the Devil
When the battle first begun.
But it don't make a niff-a-stiffrence
To neither you nor I,
They took to their heels, boys,
And you ought to see 'em fly. 

I saw old Fuss-and-Feathers Scott,
Twenty miles away,
His horses stuck up their ears,
And you ought to hear 'em neigh
But it don't make a niff-a-stiffrence
To neither you nor I,
Old Scott fled like the devil, boys,
Root, hog, or die. 

I then saw a "Tiger,"
From the old Crescent City,
He cut down the Yankees
Without any pity;
Oh! It don't make a niff-a-stiff'rence
To neither you nor I,
We whipped the Yankee boys
And made the boobies cry. 

I saw South Carolina,
The first in the cause,
Shake the dirty Yankees
Till she broke all their jaws;
Oh! It don't make a niff-a-stiff'rence
To neither you nor I,
South Carolina give 'em Hell, boys,
Root, hog, or die. 

I saw old Virginia,
Standing firm and true,
She fought mighty hard
To whip the dirty crew;
Oh! It don't make a niff-a-stiff'rence
To neither you nor I,
Old Virginia's blood and thunder, boys,
Root, hog, or die. 


I saw old Georgia,
The next in the van,
She cut down the Yankees
Almost to a man;
Oh! It don't make a niff-a-stiff'rence
To neither you nor I,
Georgia's some in a fight, boys,
Root, hog, or die. 

I saw Alabama
In the midst of the storm,
She stood like a giant
In the contest so warm;
Oh! It don't make a niff-a-stiff'rence
To neither you nor I,
Alabama fought the Yankees, boys,
Till the last one did fly. 

I saw Texas go
In with a smile,
But I tell you what it is,
She made the Yankees bile,
Oh! It don't make a niff-a-stiff'rence
To neither you nor I,
Texas is the devil, boys,
Root, hog, or die. 


I saw North Carolina
In the deepest of the battle,
She knocked down the Yankees
And made their bones rattle
Oh! It don't make a niff-a-stiff'rence
To neither you nor I,
North Carolina's got the grit, boys,
Root, hog, or die. 

Old Florida came in
With a terrible shout,
She frightened all the Yankees
Till their eyes stuck out;
Oh! It don't make a niff-a-stiff'rence
To neither you nor I,
Florida's death on Yankees, boys,
Root, hog, or die.


FLOW GENTLY, SWEET AFTON

Words And Music By Robert Burns
1839

Chorus
Flow gently sweet Afton among thy green braes,
Flow gently, I'll sing a song in thy praise.
My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream;
Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream.

Thou dove whose soft echo resounds thro' the glen,
Ye wild whistling blackbirds in yon thorny den,
Thou green crested lapwing, thy screaming forebear,
I charge you disturb not my slumbering fair.

How lofty, sweet Afton, thy neighboring hills,
Far mark'd with the courses of clear, winding rills;
There daily I wander as noon rises high,
My flocks and my Mary's sweet cot in my eye.

How pelasant thy banks and green valleys below,
Where, wild in the woodlands, the primroses blow;
There oft, as mild evening weeps over the lea,
The sweet-scented birk shades my Mary and me.

Thy chrystal stream, Afton, how lovely it glides,
And winds by the cot where my Mary resides;
How wanton thy waters her snowy feet lave,
As, gathering sweet flowerets, she stems thy clear wave.

Flow gently sweet Afton among thy green braes,
Flow gently, I'll sing a song in thy praise.
My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream;
Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream.

H. DE MARSAN, Publisher of songs & ballads. Toy-books, paper-dolls 60 CHATHAM St. N. Y.


Folks That Put On Airs
Words By H. Angelo
Music By William H. Coulston
1858

Oh, white folks, listen, will you now,
This darkie's gwine to sing;
I've hit upon a subject now
I think will be the thing.
I never like to mix at all
With anyone's affairs,
But my opinion am just now
'Bout folks that put on airs.

Chorus

No use talking, no use talking,
It's so now ev'rywhere;
To do as folks of fashion do,
You've got to put on airs.


De politician, first of all,
On 'lection day will stand,
And ever' man dat passes by,
He'll shake him by the hand.
But when he gets a good fat job -
For dat am all he cares -
He thinks himself some pum'kins den;
Oh, don't he put on airs?

When a gal gets about sixteen,
She 'gins to think she's some;
A flop dat sports a big moustache
She kinder likes to come.
Two hours before de looking glass,
To meet him she prepares;
And when she gets her fixin's on,
Oh, don't she put on airs?


A boy, too, when he's 'bout half grown,
Although he's "nary a red,"
Has lots of hair around his mouth,
But none upon his head.
He patronizes tailor-shops,
Get trust for all he wears;
And when he goes amongst de gals,
Oh, don't he put on airs?

Dar's de great Atlantic Cable,
Some time ago 'twas laid;
Both Uncle Sam and Johnny Bull
Den thought dare fortunes made.
Somehow or other, I don't know,
But folks dat hold de shares
Begin to kinder think de thing
Am puttin' on some airs.


'Tis true we Yankees go ahead
In all we undertake;
There's Ten Broeck and great Barey, too,
Can British horses break.
Dar's Murphy next, a chess-man he
His laurels proudly wears.
Old Johnny Bull can't come to tea,
And needn't put on airs.


FOLLOW THE DRINKING GOURD
Slave Song

When the sun comes up and the first quail calls, follow the drinking gourd.
There the old man's waitin' for to carry you to freedom - follow the drinking gourd.

Chorus
Follow the drinking gourd; follow the drinking gourd;
For the old man's waiting for to carry you to freedom, follow the drinking gourd.

Now the river bank'll make a mighty good road, the dead trees will show you the way.
Left foot, peg foot, travelin' on - follow the drinking gourd.

Now the river ends between two hills - follow the drinking gourd.
There's another river on the other side - follow the drinking gourd.

When the great big river meets the little river, follow the drinking gourd.
For the old man is a-waiting for to carry you to freedom if you follow the drinking gourd.

Probably the most famous slave song was titled, "Follow the Drinking Gourd' which to my knowledge has no contemporary version. What made it special was that it not only gave hidden advice but also contained a complete coded map with full details of how to escape to Canada. The Monty Python team, probably wholly unaware of its hidden agenda, skitted the song in "The Life Of Brian' as they included a sketch where demented Jews trailed a physical gourd.

For those who haven't already worked out what "The Drinking Gourd' is, it is a reference to "the big dipper' a constellation very close to the North Star itself. The North Star can be very difficult to recognise, but "The Big Dipper' is easily identifiable, looking like a massive drinking gourd, and a clear indication of a northerly direction. The series of routes and safe houses, which were often run by Quakers, was known as "The Underground Railway'. This is the railway, which James Carr was singing about in his "Freedom Train'. By 1861 there were about 500 abolitionists, helping slaves find this invisible network of pathways, safe houses and signals. Probably the most courageous of these was known as "Peg Leg Joe' who moved from one plantation to another teaching slaves the lyrics to "Drinking Gourd' and helping them interpret it.

A full interpretation of the song was posted in the "Detroit News' on Tuesday, February 25, 1997.

"When the sun comes up and the first quail calls, follow the drinking gourd.
For the old man is a-waiting to carry you to freedom,
If you follow the drinking gourd.'

With the beginning of winter on Dec. 21, the sun starts climbing higher in the sky each day. And in winter, the call of migratory quail echoes across southern fields. So Peg Leg Joe's ingenious song advised slaves to escape in winter and head north toward the Big Dipper -- code name, drinking gourd. A guide will be waiting at the end of the line.

"The riverbank makes a very good road.
The dead trees show you the way,
Left foot, peg foot, travelling on
Follow the drinking gourd."

This verse directs fugitives to the Tombigbee River, where special "Peg Leg" markings on fallen trees will show they're on the correct northerly course. Travelling under cover of darkness, slaves could find their way along a river even on nights too overcast for the Big Dipper's stars to shine through. The Tombigbee River, which empties into Alabama's Mobile Bay on the Gulf of Mexico, originates in northeast Mississippi. Perhaps as many as 200,000 enslaved people lived near that river, according to Gloria Rall, producer of a children's planetarium show, Following the Drinking Gourd, about the escape route.

"The river ends between two hills.
Follow the drinking gourd.
There's another river on the other side,
Follow the drinking gourd."

When the Tombigbee ends, the runaways who'd memorized the song knew to walk north over a hill until they came to another river, the Tennessee, then go north on it as well.

"Where the great big river meets the little river,
Follow the drinking gourd.
For the old man is a-waiting for to carry you to freedom,
If you follow the drinking gourd."

The song ends by instructing slaves that at the end of Tennessee River they must cross over to the north side of the big Ohio River, where someone from the Underground Railroad would ensure their passage to the first of a string of safe houses reaching all the way to Canada.

But how were slaves to ford the huge Ohio? Swimming across was all but impossible. Although boats on the Illinois side of the river did cross over to pick up riders, planetarium show producer Rall has noted, an escaped slave who waited long risked meeting up instead with a bounty hunter.

The solution was to walk across the Ohio River when it was frozen. Because Underground Railroad engineers calculated that the trip from the Deep South to the Ohio normally took about a year, their "Drinking Gourd" song suggested beginning the journey north in winter in order to get to the Ohio by the next winter.

Eliza Harris, the heroine of Harriet Beecher Stowe's famous abolitionist novel, Uncle Tom's Cabin, was "modelled on a real woman who crossed the ice of the Ohio River in winter," Underground Railroad scholar Blockson explained in a National Geographic article. By the time Eliza reached the river, its ice was breaking up.

"In desperation as her pursuers closed in, Eliza darted into the river, holding her child in her arms. Springing from one floe to another, she lost her shoes in the icy waters but struggled on with bleeding feet to the opposite shore and the safety of the Ohio underground," Blockson recalls.



FOR BALES

We all went down to New Orleans, for bales, for bales;
We all went down to New Orleans, for bales, says I.
We all went down to New Orleans to get a peep behind the scenes,
And we'll all drink stone blind, Johnny fill up the bowl.

We thought when we got in the "ring," for bales, for bales;
We thought when we got in the "ring," for bales, says I.
We thought when we got in the "ring," greenbacks would be a dead sure thing,
And we'll all drink stone blind, Johnny fill up the bowl.

The "ring" went up, with bagging and rope, for bales, for bales;
The "ring" went up, with bagging and rope, for bales, says I.
The "ring" went up, with bagging and rope, expecting to make a pile of soap,
And we'll all drink stone blind, Johnny fill up the bowl.

But Taylor and Smith, with ragged ranks, for bales, for bales;
But Taylor and Smith, with ragged ranks, for bales, says I.
But Taylor and Smith, with ragged ranks, burned up the cotton and whipped old Banks,
And we'll all drink stone blind, Johnny fill up the bowl.

Our "ring" came back and cursed and swore, for bales, for bales;
Our "ring" came back and cursed and swore, for bales, says I.
Our "ring" came back and cursed and swore for we got no cotton at Grand Ecore,
And we'll all drink stone blind, Johnny fill up the bowl.

Now let us all give praise and thanks, for bales, for bales;
Now let us all give praise and thanks, for bales, says I.
Now let us all give praise and thanks for the victory gained by General Banks,
And we'll all drink stone blind, Johnny fill up the bowl.



Lucy Hood's Pettycoat Flag
Revealed To Sigel's Soldiers
Carthage, Missouri


For The Dear Old Flag I Die

Stephen Foster

For the dear old flag I die,
Said the wounded drummer boy;
Mother, press your lips to mine;
O, they bring me peace and joy!,
'Tis the last time on the earth
I shall ever see your face,
Mother take me to your heart,
Let me die in your embrace.

Chorus
For the dear old flag I die,
Mother, dry your weeping eye;
For the honor of our land
And the dear old flag I die.

Do not mourn, my Mother, dear,
Every pang will soon be o'er;
For I hear the angel band
Calling from their starry shore;
Now I see their banners wave
In the light of perfect day,
Though 'tis hard to part with you,
Yet I would not wish to stay.

Contrary to popular impression, some of Stephen Foster's best songs were written during the Civil War years. "For The Dear Old Flag I Die" (1863) captures the essence of Foster's gift for crafting a memorable melody that seems to give physical form to human emotions. Lincoln was known to have called for pieces such as this again and again.


Fort Sumter

Come now and gather round me,
A story I'll relate,
It happened near a city
Of South Carolina state.

Chorus
And now Old Uncle Abe,
If you'll take good advice!
You'll ne'er invade our Southern soil,
Think o'er the matter twice. 

There was in Charleston harbor,
A fortress strong and great,
Commanded by Bob Anderson,
Which caused much debate.

Now Beauregard did loudly swear,
He would Fort Sumpter take,
And for to carry out his threat,
Did many batteries make.

'Twas on a Friday morning,
The day was wondrous fair,
When soon a signal gun was heard
Loud booming through the air.

Now Beauregard he pounded hard,
While Sumpter pounded back,
Till in two days this pounding,
Fort Sumpter's walls did crack.

Then Anderson surrendered,
And marched his men away:
And sailed with them to New York,
Where they had better stay.

From CIVIL WAR SONG SHEETS, SERIES 2, VOLME 1



Free At Last

Slave Song

Chorus
Free at last, free at last,
I thank God I'm free at last;
Free at last, free at last,
I thank God I'm free at last

Way down yonder in the graveyard walk,
I thank God I'm free at last,
Me and my Jesus gonna meet and talk,
I thank God I'm free at last. Oh...

On my knees when the light passed by,
I thank God I'm free at last,
Thought my soul would rise and fly,
I thank God I'm free at last.


From Every Stormy Wind That Blows

From every stormy wind that blows, 
From every swelling tide of woes, 
There is a calm, a sure retreat; 
'Tis found before the mercy seat. 

There is a place where Jesus sheds 
The oil of gladness on our heads, 
A place of all on earth most sweet, 
It is the blood-bought mercy seat. 

There is a scene where spirits blend, 
Where friend holds fellowship with friend; 
Though sundered far, by faith they meet 
Around one common mercy seat. 

There, there on eagle wings we soar, 
And sin and sense molest no more; 
And heaven comes down our souls to greet, 
And glory crowns the mercy seat. 

 

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