|Location in The Sacred Harp|
Say, now ye lovely social band,
Who walk the road to Canaan’s land,
Ye who have fled from Sodom’s plain,
Say do you wish to turn again?
Oh! have ye ventur’d to the field?
Well arm’d with helmet, sword and shield?
And shall the world with dread alarms;
Compel you now to ground your arms?
Clamanda 42, Stanza 1
Social Band (Clamanda) 42, Stanza 1
Oh! come young soldiers, count the cost,
And say, what pleasures have you lost?
Or what misfortune does it bring,
To have Jehovah for your king?
Shall sin entice you back again,
And bind you with its iron chain?
Has vice to you such lovely charms,
That you must die within its arms?
Is folly’s ways, the ways of peace,
Where sin, and pain, and sorrow cease,
Does pleasure roll its living stream,
And is religion all a dream?
Say, do you envy those who stray,
And wander far from wisdom’s way—
Oh! do you see their path descend,
Or know where sin at last will end?
Beware of pleasure’s syren song,
Alas! it cannot soothe you long;
It cannot quiet Jordan’s wave,
Nor cheer the dark and silent grave:
Oh! what contentment did you find,
When love of pleasure rul’d your mind?
No sweet reflections lull’d your rest,
Nor conscious virtue calm’d your breast.
Social Band (Clamanda) 42, Stanza 2 (lines 1, 2, 3, & 4)
Did you not dread that hast’ning day,
That soon must sweep your joys away.
When death shall sing in mournful strain,
“Left dust return to dust again?”
But now your thoughts delight to sour,
Where earth and time shall be no more;
They pass the grave and mount on high,
To the fair fields above the sky.
Social Band (Clamanda) 42, Stanza 2 (lines 5, 6, 7, & 8)
There on the hill of sweet repose,
You’ll bid adieu to all your woes;
There shall you walk the flow’ry fields,
And taste the fruit which Zion yields
No sin or pain shall venture nigh,
Nor fiends shall never rise so high:
There the angelic watchmen wait,
To keep secure the heav’nly gate.
There see the glorious hosts on wing,
And hear the heavenly seraphs sing,
The shining ranks in glory stand,
Or move like lightning at command:
There sits the Saviour on his throne,
And there Jehovah reigns alone;
There angels circle round his seat,
And armies worship at his feet,
Social Band (Clamanda) 42, Stanza 7
But Oh! I see among the rest,
An host in whiter garments drest,
And nearer to the throne they stand,
With palms of vict’ry in their hands.
Oh! who are those I now behold,
With blood-wash’d robes and crowns of gold?
Say, is this glorious cause unknown
To him who sits upon the throne.
Yes, now we know from whence this throng,
For—hark! redemption is their song;
From yonder vale of tears they come—
Welcome ye trav’lers—welcome home.
Oh! now upon the peaceful shore,
You’re met at last, to part no more;
Where flesh and sin shall not controul
The sacred pleasures of the soul.