…when I’m weary and overwrought

with so many battles left unfought

I think of Paul and Silas in the prison yard

I hear thier song of freedom rising to the stars

and when the Saints go marching in I want to be one of them.

…when I think of all who’ve gone before and lived a faithful life

their courage compels me

I see the shepherd moses in the pharaohs court

I hear his call for freedom for the people fo the Lord

I see the long quiet walk along the underground railroad

I see the slave awakening to the value of her soul

I see the young missionary and the angry spear

I see his family returning with no trace of fear

I see the long hard shadows of calcutta nights

I see the sister standing by the dying man’s side

I see the young girl huddled on the brothel floor

I see the man with a passion come kicking down that door

I see the man of sorrow and his long troubled road

I see the world on his shoulders and my easy load

and when the Saints go marching in

I want to be one of them.