their courage compels me.

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 and kicking down the door 

i see the man of sorrows 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


[when the saints. sara groves.]