Martin Luther King (From Pages)

Lord, I hear Selma And I see them coming one by one Your dusky children with their dusty seat Walking until they can get a seat At the front of your glory Lord, I know the trumpet don't sound the same For Gabriel not blowing tonight He is in a prison cell Waiting for the chain to fall Like tears from the mind of children Among the tares, among the tares Gabriel showing Martin the map of heaven And he telling him sweet Jesus, to lay down his burdens By the river side We will not board again The underground train with cargoes of pain He telling him sweet Jesus, the Lord will provide A ram in the ticket If he put up the sword A man die must the way he live Such a paradox here The tragic morning on the balcony For peace was all he lived by And just over some garbage they did this thing O Lord, that is some nasty hearts But I dreaming still For only in dream the reality goes away Only in dreams the bleeding ends Only in dreams this land gives me peace Only in dreams my children Still can see the mountain top I dreaming about love Don't wake me up Because I am tired and need my rest My soul been marching too long Trekking in the coffled gang since Benin Marching up the ships' plank Marching around this Jericho, this Mississippi Looking for the stones of my father's tribe Looking for stones that marked the place Where I must crossover This raging river of our history This awesome monument of forgiveness we have This longing to say, brother, It is a good morning not to die And wipe the tears from his eye And justice though it comes in the night Will shine like the sun everywhere A long, long time Before the lion eats straw with the lamb