Hear my people, O hear!
Heed the voice of the one
That cried in the wilderness.
Repent, he said, the kingdom is at hand
Prepare the way for one mightier than me,
Who is to come, will carry our sorrows,
Make his path straight.
The winnowing fan he has in his hand
He will cleanse the floor thoroughly
Saving good grain from chaff.
He wore a loincloth of camel’s hair
Ate locusts and wild honey,
Had fire in his mouth
Lashed at hypocrisy, false piety
And condemned iniquity.
Head of that forerunner of truth
Ended up in a charger,
Martyr to a vengeful tyranny.
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