Black Knights Song No.4

 

A pilgrim once on a journey went, the way was mysterious and dark,
No shelter of house, or tree, or tent, no star the course to mark,
But toil was beguiled by dreams of a child, whispered soft in his ear,
And a power and a spell around him fell, ‘twas awful, ‘twas not fear.

Darkly shadowy all around,
The pilgrim travelled the mystic ground.

Another whisper told how in power and gold – he who once was a slave did move,
How anger slept and affection wept – in pure fraternal love,
And the whisper told how a dying breath – sought out its last home the tomb,
And around him hung the signs of death – in silence and in gloom.

Darkly shadowy all around,
The pilgrim travelled the mystic ground.

And the whisper again came close to his ear Mount Horeb was the theme,
When lo o’er his path there did appear the flash of a brilliant flame.
And a fiery serpent crossed his path, and a limb was withered in pain,
But it seemed the power subdued its wrath – for the limb was whole again.

Darkly shadowy all around,
The pilgrim travelled the mystic ground.

And often he climbed the mountain height, in darkness and toil went he,
‘Til at length he saw a vision bright, rise out of the dark blue sea,
Then a whirlwind rose and dashed him about – which filled his soul with dread,
And the elements roared and thundering shout, as he lay like one that was dead.

Darkly shadowy all around,
The pilgrim travelled the mystic ground.

But he quaffed new life from a mystic cup, never made by human hand,
And invisible beings bore him up – In a chariot through the land-
Then a flood of light burst on his sight and symbols and signs he found,
Which none e’er knew but a pilgrim true ho travelled the mystic ground.

Brightly glowed the Israel lights,
Bright were the ranks of the mystic knights.

Let the festive glass glow full and bright and this the toast be given,
Here’s to the chosen true Black Knight of 3, 5, 7, 11
Who drank of the cup when faint for breath – who rode the whirlwinds blast,
Who passed amid thunder as if to death – but who saw the glory at last.

Hail then – Hail then
Hail to Israels’ golden lights
Hail to the Orange true Black Knights .

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