GONE
Mournfully, mournfully
All around me are crying,
For my dark-eyed baby boy
Is dying, dying
Tenderly, tenderly
To him I am clinging,
But he slips from my fond arms,
Death bells are ringing
Joyfully, joyfully
Angels are receiving
My babe--by the empty cot
I must sit grieving.
WHAT WENT YE OUT FOR TO SEE?
On Jordan's banks gathered an eager crowd,
The Royal city poured its dwellers out;
The vintage was untouched in Ephraim;
No fisher's boat from Magdala put out.
Up from Engedi's fountain, down the slope
Of terraced Olivet, an eager throng,
Filled with one purpose, one absorbing hope,
Unto the Jordan take their way along.
The priestly robe, the saintly Pharisee,
The publican, the sinner, all were there,
The doubting, sneering, questioning Sadducee,
Just risen from his seat, the scorner's chair.
All carried there the consciousness of sin;
A wish for some one having power to save;
Ready to do some great thing peace to win;
So came they to the ford by Jordan's wave.
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