Misc Praise Songs – Christopher Davies (Guitar)

   Em          D    C              D       C     D         Em 
No more will I down primrose paths wander, as in days gone by; 

                           D  C           D       C        D     Em 
But the track of the white trefoil I will follow, till the day I die. 

           G                  D                         Em                         D
Though the serpent tries to effect disguise at my three questions he'll quiver and cower, 

          Em                          D 
As he's reminded once again that he's very near the end, 

              C              D                 Em 
When he'll be blinded by the morning's dawning hour.

       Em              D    C         D           C         D       Em 
As the pool 'round the tree becomes a lake of the clearest, deepest blue, 

                         D    C        D              C           D       Em 
The branches will change from brown to green, and the bark will appear as new; 

         G                   D                      Em                        D
Then the murmuring wind will rise and sing, and the stars will dance upon the water; 

      Em                   D                    C          D        Em
And a mighty shout will be heard all about from God's true sons and daughters.

        Em                   D    C          D      C               D       Em 
And the black, bloated raven will croak no more, No more will he be able to fly. 

                 D             C             D               C            D          Em 
He will beat his wings but the bones will be snapped, And no more will he darken the sky. 

         G                       D                        Em                             D
Then the song of the birds will again be heard, But their notes will be different than before; 

        Em                     D                             C       D    Em
For now sadness or sorrow will spoil their song, And they'll sing forever more.

        Em                 D    C         D   C             D          Em 
And the pipes will play on that glorious day, weaving their pattern of silk

                   D    C          D            C          D         Em 
Their gentle notes will stroke the air, and the skies will rain with milk

       G                       D                      Em                           D
The Possessor will embrace the breath of life and the arrogant be made so meek and mild.

    Em                   D                   C           D       Em
And everything will they freely bring to the feet of the perfect child.