THE SMITHY OF GOD
Where is the spirit seeking the sky,
As they stumble and fall, stumble and fall?
What is life, if the spirit die,
As they stumble and fall?
As they stumble and fall, stumble and fall?
What is life, if the spirit die,
As they stumble and fall?
(With bitter resignation.)
Clang, and the strokes of your hammer grind
Body and spirit, courage and mind;
Smith of the devil, well may you be
Proud of your ghastly forgery.
Dare you to speak to heaven again,
Newark, Newark, forger of men,
Forger of men, forger of men?
Clang, and the strokes of your hammer grind
Body and spirit, courage and mind;
Smith of the devil, well may you be
Proud of your ghastly forgery.
Dare you to speak to heaven again,
Newark, Newark, forger of men,
Forger of men, forger of men?
III.
(Beginning quietly, gathering certainty.)
I am Newark, forger of men,
Forger of men, forger of men.
Well I know that the metal must glow
With a scorching, searing heat;
Well I know that blood must flow,
And floods of sweat, and rivers of woe;
That underneath the beat
Of the hammer, the metal will writhe and toss;
That there will be much and much of loss
(Beginning quietly, gathering certainty.)
I am Newark, forger of men,
Forger of men, forger of men.
Well I know that the metal must glow
With a scorching, searing heat;
Well I know that blood must flow,
And floods of sweat, and rivers of woe;
That underneath the beat
Of the hammer, the metal will writhe and toss;
That there will be much and much of loss
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