(Chorus of Watchmen)

Wherefore art thou red

In thine apparel,

And thy garments

Like him that treadeth in the wine fat?

(He who cometh)

I have trodden the winepress alone;

And of the peoples there was no man with me:
Yea, I trod them in mine anger,

And trampled them in my fury;

And their life blood is sprinkled upon my garments,
And I have stained all my raiment.

For the day of vengeance was in mine heart,

And the year of my redeemed is come.

And I looked and there was none to help;

And I wondered that there was none to uphold:
Therefore mine own arm brought salvation unto me;
And my fury it upheld me.

And I trod down the peoples in mine anger,
And made them drunk in my fury,

And I poured their life-blood on the earth.

GENERAL WILLIAM BOOTH ENTERS HEAVEN

VACHEL LINDSAY

(Drums)

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?

Walking lepers followed, rank on rank,

Lurching bravoes from the ditches dank,

Drabs from the alley ways and drug-fiends pale-
Minds still passion-ridden, soul-powers frail!

Vermin-eaten saints with mouldy breath

Unwashed legions from the ways of death-
(Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb?)

(Banjos)

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.
Big-voiced lassies made their banjos bang,
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!

Loons with trumpets that blowed a blare, blare, blare-
On, on, upward through the golden air!
(Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb?)

(Bass drums slower and softer)

Booth died blind, and still by faith he trod,

Eyes still dazzled by the ways of God.

Booth led boldly and he looked the chief:
Eagle countenance in sharp relief,
Beard a-flying, air of high command
Unabated in the Holy Land.

Jesus came out from the Court-House door,
Stretched his hand above the passing poor.

(Flutes)

Booth saw not, but led his queer ones there
Round and round the mighty Court-House square.
Yet in an instant all that blear review

Marched on spotless, clad in raiment new.

The lame were straightened, withered limbs uncurled
And blind eyes opened on a new sweet world.

(Bass drums louder and faster)

Drabs and vixens in a flash made whole!

Gone was the weasel-head, the snout, the jowl;

Sages and sibyls now, and athletes clean,
Rulers of empires, and of forests green!

(Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb?)

(Grand chorus of all instruments-Tambourines in the foreground)

The hosts were sandalled and the wings were fire!

(Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb?)

And their noise played havoc with the angel choir.
(Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb?)
O, 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!

(Reverently sung; no instruments)

And when Booth halted by the curb for prayer
He saw his Master through the flag-filled air.
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!
(Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb?)

THE LAND O' THE LEAL

LADY NAIRNE

I'm wearin' awa', John,

Like snaw-wreaths in thaw, John,

I'm wearin' awa'

To the land o' the leal.

There's nae sorrow there, John,
There's neither cauld nor care, John,

The day is aye fair

In the land o' the leal.

Our bonnie bairn's there, John,

She was baith gude and fair, John,

And oh we grudged her sair

To the land o' the leal!

But sorrow's sel' wears past, John,
And joy's a-comin' fast, John,
The joy that's aye to last,

In the land o' the leal.

Sae dear's that joy was bought, John,
Sae free the battle fought, John,
That sinfu' man e'er brought,
To the land o' the leal.

Oh! dry your glistening ee, John,
My saul langs to be free, John,
And angels beckon me

To the land o' the leal.

Oh! haud ye leal and true, John,
Your day it's wearin' through, John,
And I'll welcome you

To the land o' the leal.
Now fare-ye-weel, my ain John,
The world's cares are vain, John,
We'll meet and we'll be fain

In the land o' the leal.

MY PILGRIMAGE

SIR WALTER RALEIGH

Give me my scallop-shell of quiet,
My staff of faith to walk upon,
My scrip of joy, immortal diet,
My bottle of salvation,

My gown of glory, hope's true gage;
And thus I'll take my pilgrimage!

Blood must be my body's balmer;
No other balm will there be given,
Whilst my soul, like quiet palmer,

Travelleth toward the land of heaven,

Over the silver mountains,

Where spring the nectar fountains.
There will I kiss

The bowl of bliss;

And drink mine everlasting fill
Upon every milken hill

My soul will be a-dry before;
But, after, it will thirst no more.

Then by that happy blissful day
More peaceful pilgrims shall I see,
That have cast off their rags of clay,
And walk apparelled fresh like me.
I'll take them first,

To quench their thirst

And taste of nectar's suckets,
At those clear wells

Where sweetness dwells,

Drawn up by saints in crystal buckets.

And when our bottles and all we
Are filled with immortality,

Then by the blest paths we'll travel,
Strewed with rubies thick as gravel;
Ceilings of diamonds, sapphire floors,
High walls of coral, and pearly bowers.

From thence to heaven's bribeless hall,
Where no corrupted voices brawl;
No conscience molten into gold;
No forged accuser bought or sold;

No cause deferred, no vain-spent journey,
For there Christ is the King's Attorney,
Who pleads for all, without degrees,
And he hath angels but no fees.

And when the grand twelve million jury
Of our sins, with direful fury,
Against our souls black verdicts give,
Christ pleads his death; and then we live.