Helen Schneyer used to live close to Washington D.C., and opened her "soup kitchen" to a motly assortment of waifs, strays and folk singers. We sat around her table in November 1969 (after feasting on her wonderful chicken soup) and sang this from a hymnbook. It is printed in George Pullen Jackson's "Spiritual Folk Songs of Early America," and is the only truly American song that we sing here.
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Hail the day so long expected
Hail the year of full release
Zion's walls are now erected
And her watchmen publish peace
Throughout Shiloh's wide dominion
Hear the trumpet loudly roar:
Babylon is fallen, is fallen, is fallen
Babylon is fallen to rise no more.
Babylon is fallen, is fallen, is fallen
Babylon is fallen to rise no more.
All her merchants stand with wonder
What is this that comes to pass?
Murm'ring like the distant thunder,
Crying, Oh alas, alas.
Swell the sound, ye kings and nobles,
Priest and people, rich and poor:
Blow the trumpet in Mount Zion
Christ shall come a second time
Ruling with a rod of iron
All who now as foes combine
Babel's garments we've rejected
And our fellowship is o'er:
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