Clothe the body in the
rainbow robes of joy
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Clothe the body in the
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| 1. | I'm just the finger on the hand but I'm playing in the
band, and without me the trumpet will not blow; just the elbow, not the arm, but the cello will not charm if I'm not there to draw the singing bow. Sound the trumpet and play the symphony! Clothe the body in the rainbow robes of joy! We're the chorus, we're the band, making music through the land, in honour of the Christ, our Dancing Boy. |
| 2. | I'm the smallest tapping toe, but the rhythm will not flow and the drummer will lose the drummer's beat if I do not keep in time from bar one to forty-nine, though you never see our pair of dancing feet. Sound the trumpet . . |
| 3. | I'm the lungs and not the heart, but the singer cannot
start if I don't pump his bellows full of air; not a single glory note will escape his heaving throat if I don't play my part and take my share. Sound the trumpet . . |
| 4. | I'm just the anvil, not the ear, but the player will not
hear if I lie silent, motionless and mute; I must add my little ding if the music is to ring from glockenspiel, piano, harp or flute. Sound the trumpet . . |
Words and music © Colin Gibson 2000
Permission is given to reproduce this material, with
acknowledgement,
for non-commercial use in a congregational or similar
setting.
