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
Copyright © David Smalling | Year Posted 2010
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