BOOTH led boldly with his big bass drum. | | |
| Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb? | | |
| The saints smiled gravely, and they said, “He’s come.” | | |
| Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb? | Bass drums | | |
| Walking lepers followed, rank on rank, | | 5 |
| Lurching bravos from the ditches dank, | | |
| Drabs from the alleyways and drug-fiends pale— | | |
| Minds still passion-ridden, soul-powers frail! | | |
| Vermin-eaten saints with mouldy breath | | |
| Unwashed legions with the ways of death— | | 10 |
| Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb? | | |
| |
| Every slum had sent its half-a-score | | |
| The round world over—Booth had groaned for more. | | |
| Every banner that the wide world flies | | |
| Bloomed with glory and transcendent dyes. | | 15 |
| Big-voiced lasses made their banjos bang! | Banjos | | |
| Tranced, fanatical, they shrieked and sang, | | |
| Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb? | | |
| Hallelujah! It was queer to see | | |
| Bull-necked convicts with that land make free! | | 20 |
| Loons with bazoos blowing blare, blare, blare— | | |
| On, on, upward through the golden air. | | |
| Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb? | | |
| |
| Booth died blind, and still by faith he trod, | | |
| Eyes still dazzled by the ways of God. | | 25 |
| Booth led boldly and he looked the chief: | Bass drums slower and softer | | |
| Eagle countenance in sharp relief, | | |
| Beard a-flying, air of high command | | |
| Unabated in that holy land. | | |
| |
| Jesus came from out the Court-House door, | | 30 |
| Stretched his hands above the passing poor. | | |
| Booth saw not, but led his queer ones there | Flutes | | |
| Round and round the mighty Court-House square. | | |
| Yet in an instant all that blear review | | |
| Marched on spotless, clad in raiment new. | | 35 |
| The lame were straightened, withered limbs uncurled | | |
| And blind eyes opened on a new sweet world. | | |
| |
| Drabs and vixens in a flash made whole! | Bass drums louder and faster | | |
| Gone was the weasel-head, the snout, the jowl; | | |
| Sages and sibyls now, and athletes clean, | | 40 |
| Rulers of empires, and of forests green! | | |
| The hosts were sandalled and their wings were fire— | | |
| Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb? | | |
| But their noise played havoc with the angel-choir. | Grand chorus tambourines—all instruments in full blast | | |
| Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb? | | 45 |
| Oh, shout Salvation! it was good to see | | |
| Kings and princes by the Lamb set free. | | |
| The banjos rattled and the tambourines | | |
| Jing-jing-jingled in the hands of queens! | | |
| |
| And when Booth halted by the curb for prayer | | 50 |
| He saw his Master through the flag-filled air. | Reverently sung—no instruments | | |
| Christ came gently with a robe and crown | | |
| For Booth the soldier while the throng knelt down. | | |
| He saw King Jesus—they were face to face, | | |
| And he knelt a-weeping in that holy place. | | 55 |
| Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb? | | |
| |
