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82 The Indian Philosopher


Awak'd by Sinai's awful sound, 
My soul in guilt and thrall I found, 
And knew not where to go; 
O'erwhelm'd in sin, with anguish slain, 
The sinner must be born again, 
Or sink in endless woe.

To heav'n the joyful tidings flew, 
The angels tun'd their harps anew, 
And lofty notes did raise;
All hail the lamb that once was slain, 
Unnumber'd millions born again, 
Still shout thy endless praise.


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http://shenandoah.harmony.sacredharpbremen.org/resources/songs/1---99/082-the-indian-philosopher/82%20The%20Indian%20Philosopher%20synth%20text.mp3



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