Hark! the herald angels sing, “Glory to the newborn king!” Peace on earth, and mercy mild. God and sinners reconciled. Joyful, all ye nations rise; join the triumph of the skies. With the angelic hosts proclaim, “Christ is born in Bethlehem!” Hark, the herald angels sing, “Glory to the newborn king!”

There’s a light upon the mountains, // And the day is at the spring, // When our eyes shall see the beauty // And the glory of the King: // Weary was our heart with waiting, // And the night watch seemed so long, // But His triumph day is breaking // And we hail it with a song.

In the fading of the starlight // We may see the coming morn; // And the lights of all are paling // In the splendors of the dawn; // For the eastern skies are glowing // As with light of hidden fire, // And the hearts of all are stirring // With the throbs of deep desire.

He is breaking down the barriers, // He is gathering up the way; // He is calling for His angels // To build up the gates of day: // But His angels here are human, // Not the shining hosts above; // For the drum beats of His army // Are the heartbeats of our love.

Hark! we hear a distant music // And it comes with fuller swell; // ’Tis the triumph song of Jesus, // Of our King, Immanuel! // Go ye forth with joy to meet Him! // And, my soul, be swift to bring // All thy sweetest and thy dearest // For the glory of our King!

Come, thou long expected Jesus // Born to set thy people free // From our fears and sins release us // Let us find our rest in Thee

Joy to the world, the Lord is come! Let earth receive her King. Let every heart prepare him room, and heaven and nature sing.

Listen up now, let me tell you something // I want to tell you ‘bout a new kind of king // We are the heavenly host and we’re ready to sing // Telling you ‘bout a new kind of king

The King of Love (the King of Love) // The Prince of Peace (the Prince of Peace) // If you have ears to hear (ears to hear) // And eyes to see (eyes to see) // The King, The King of Kings // The King, The King of Kings

Listen up now, and don’t be afraid // Come to Bethlehem, where the babe is laid // Did I forget to say, that he’s laying in the hay? // The king is just a child and He is born today

The King of Love (the King of Love) // The Prince of Peace (the Prince of Peace) // If you have ears to hear (ears to hear) // And eyes to see (eyes to see) // The King, The King of Kings // The King, The King of Kings

Listen up now, and don’t fall asleep // The king is like a shepherd watching over his sheep // He leads them to water and from danger he’ll keep them, // Hosanna to the King, his love is broad and deep

The King of Love (the King of Love) // The Prince of Peace (the Prince of Peace) // If you have ears to hear (ears to hear) // And eyes to see (eyes to see) // The King, The King of Kings // The King, The King of Kings

Infant holy, infant lowly // For his bed a cattle stall // Oxen lowing, little knowing // Christ the babe is Lord of all // Swiftly winging, angels singing // Bells are ringing, tidings bringing // Christ the babe is Lord of all // Christ the babe is Lord of all // Flocks were sleeping, // Shepherds keeping // Vigil ‘til the morning new, // Saw the glory, heard the story // Tidings of a Gospel true // Thus rejoicing, free from sorrow // Praises voicing, greet the morrow: // Christ the babe was born for you // Christ the babe was born for you

Bright and glorious is the sky // Radiant are the heavens high // Where the golden star is shining // All its rays to earth inclining // Leading to the newborn King // Leading to the newborn King

Him they found in Bethlehem // Yet he wore no diadem // They but saw a maiden lowly // With an infant pure and holy // Resting in her loving arms // Resting in her loving arms

Guided by the star, they found // Him whose praise the ages sound // We too have a star to guide us // That forever will provide us // With the light to find our Lord // With the light to find our Lord

As a star, God’s holy word // Leads us to our King and Lord // Brightly from its sacred pages // Shall this light throughout the ages // Shine upon our path of life // Shine upon our path of life

I’m just a lamb, and I don’t have many years // But I know a Good Shepherd when I see one // He is gentle, he is kind, he assuages all my fears // And so I say, Good Shepherd, won’t you lead on // I will follow my Gentle Shepherd // I will follow my Gentle Shepherd I will follow

I may not know many mountains, many hills // I may not understand the grassland that feeds me // But I have seen a star, and as I stare at it, it thrills me // To think there is a loving king to lead me // I will follow my Gentle Shepherd // I will follow my Gentle Shepherd // I will follow

How strange a sight, shepherds shaking, on their knees // When it is in their loving arms they always hide us // Be not afraid, for today a King of Peace is born // To lead like shepherds do, yes, He will guide us // We will follow the Gentle Shepherd // We will follow the Gentle Shepherd // We will follow

I’m just a lamb, and there’s much I do not know // But I can see the star point to the baby king // Come, let us go to the city down below // Though we are lowly sheep, we’ll help the angels sing // We will follow the Gentle Shepherd // We will follow the Gentle Shepherd // We will follow

Look at the sheep, watch them leave to chase that star // Or perhaps to find that holy child sleeping // We may be fools to set off wandering so far // But an eager heart knows shepherds too need keeping // We will follow the Gentle Shepherd // We will follow the Gentle Shepherd // We will follow

© The Walking Roots Band 2017, written by Greg Yoder

Bring a torch, Jeanette, Isabella // Bring a torch, come swiftly and run // Christ is born, tell the folk of the village // Jesus is sleeping in His cradle // Ah, ah, beautiful is the Mother // Ah, ah, beautiful is her Son

Hasten now, good folk of the village // Hasten now, the Christ Child to see // You will find Him asleep in the manger // Quietly come and whisper softly // Hush, hush, peacefully now He slumbers // Hush, hush, peacefully now He sleeps

Take this torch, Jeanette, Isabella // Take this torch from heaven above // And tell the earth that fear has no power // Jesus is born, a King so lowly // Hush, hush, still is the dark of waiting // Hush, hush, still is the dawn of Love

Watchman, tell us of the night, // What its signs of promise are // Traveler, o’er yon mountain’s height // See that glory-beaming star // Watchman, doth its beauteous ray // Aught of joy or hope foretell? // Traveler yes; it brings the day, // Promised day of Israel.

Watchman, tell us of the night; // Higher yet that star ascends. // Traveler blessedness and light, // Peace and truth, its course portends // Watchman, will its beams alone // Gild the spot that gave them birth? // Traveler, ages are its own; // See it bursts o’er all the earth!

Alleluia

Watchman, tell us of the night; // For the morning seems to dawn. // Traveler, darkness takes its flight; // Doubt and terror are withdrawn. // Watchman, let thy wandering cease; // Hie thee to thy quiet home! // Traveler, Lo, the Prince of Peace Lo the Son of God is come. // Watchman, tell us of the night; // For the morning seems to dawn. // Traveler, Lo, the Prince of Peace // Lo the Son of God is come.

Alleluia Text: John Bowring, 1825 Music: Seth Crissman
Music © 2017 The Walking Roots Band

The tree of life my soul hath seen, // Laden with fruit and always green: // The trees of nature fruitless be // Compared with Christ the apple tree. // His beauty doth all things excel: // By faith I know, but ne'er can tell // The glory which I now can see // In Jesus Christ the apple tree. // For happiness I long have sought, // And pleasure dearly I have bought: // I missed of all; but now I see '// Tis found in Christ the apple tree. // I'm weary with my former toil, // Here I will sit and rest awhile: // Under the shadow I will be, // Of Jesus Christ the apple tree. // This fruit doth make my soul to thrive, // It keeps my dying faith alive; // Which makes my soul in haste to be // With Jesus Christ the apple tree.

When the snow melts high on the mountain top // It’s on its way back home // Run down to the river, meet another rain drop // It’s on its way back home

When the spring air warms and the birds wing by // They’re on their way back home // Rushing back to the nest, gonna bring a new life // They’re on their way back home

Everything that I can see // Doesn’t even bother to look at me // They’re just singing loud and cheerfully // “We’re on our way back home”

When I lay down my shovel and the work is done // I’m on my way back home // Give a shout to the mountains and the setting sun // I’m on my way back home

When my grandmother sits in her rocking chair // She’s on her way back home // She lived her life as one long prayer // And she’s on her way back home

Everything that I can see // Doesn’t even bother to look at me // They’re just singing loud and cheerfully // “We’re on our way back home”

© Gregory J. Yoder, 2016

Drove my first spike on the Pennsylvania Railroad // Twenty miles from Pittsburgh, when Windber lived on coal // Cuts like a knife, the way the winter wind blows // And the dull thud of the summer sun done beat down on my souI

It’s a hard time livin’ in these hard, hard times // It’s a hard time livin’ in these hard, hard times // It’s a hard time livin’ in these hard, hard times

Steel in the mills and in the eyes of the preacher’s daughter // Allegheny Mountains don’t hold no hope no more // Steel in the hills, the steel is in the water // And the blood is on their hands as they go walking out the door

It’s a hard time livin’ in these hard, hard times // It’s a hard time livin’ in these hard, hard times // It’s a hard time livin’ in these hard, hard times

© Seth Thomas Crissman and Gregory J. Yoder, 2016

She’s like a tree to me // A maple, stable and serene // Providing shade and leafy green // Protection from the worst of all the thistles

I’m like a train to him // A smoky rush, mighty gust of wind // Blowing where the forests already thinned // And slowing only when I whet my whistle

He’s like the sea to me // Steady, strong, upon the beach // The ocean’s motion leaves it clean // The sand made brand new every morning

I’m like the waves to her // Poseidon’s passion, crashin’ towards and // Dashin’ ‘gainst the rocks on her eastern shore // The lighthouse issuing its warning

Hold me now // As we go ‘round

She’s like a tree to me // A maple, stable and serene // I’m like a train to him // A smoky rush, mighty gust of wind // He’s like the sea to me // Steady, strong, upon the beach // I’m like the waves to her // Poseidon’s passion, crashin’ towards and // Dashin’ ‘gainst the rocks on her eastern shore

© Gregory J. Yoder, 2016

A ruby hue up over the hill // Tells me the trees have turned to tinder, the fire is rolling still // And in the night the crimson glow // Sings of 10,000 acres laid to waste in Shenandoah

They say after fire new life will come // But you can’t tell that to the woman burned in the losing of her son // And from the ashes rises something new // Good luck believing in those words when the ashes come for you

This ain’t your fault, you don’t have to fix it // This broken heart is a paper-dry, brittle fern // There ain’t no hope that the smoke is gonna miss us // But won’t you sit with me while I watch the mountain burn

We need rain, to water this dry land // But your bucket’s not gonna touch this wildfire, nothing can // There are no words, nothing you can do // Except to hold my hand and feel the heat until it’s through

This ain’t your fault, you don’t have to fix it // This broken heart is a paper-dry, brittle fern // There ain’t no hope that the smoke is gonna miss us // But won’t you sit with me while I watch the mountain burn

© Gregory J. Yoder, 2016

I heard tell that a drink from the well // Is clear and sweet, like a ringing bell // When the bell tolls, it touches my soul // At least that’s what I’m told // I been told there are streets of gold // Ready and waiting for my soul // But my soul sings of a sparrow’s wings, // A packet of seeds, and a set of strings.

I’m gonna bide my time // Ain’t gonna ruffle no feathers // ‘Til I’m ready to fly // Then give me wings

Many a man sets his hand to the shaping of stone in his own homeland // The seed is good, steel strings and wood, // And then there’s a well where a wall once stood // The sparrow’s nest, by the sunset blessed is a harbor, refuge, place of rest // But watchful eyes know the western the skies // She waits for the sign, then away she flies

I’m gonna bide my time // Ain’t gonna ruffle no feathers // ‘Til I’m ready to fly // Then give me wings

© Gregory J. Yoder, 2016

There’s a lonesome whistle rattling my door // But it’s been years, and the trains don’t come through anymore // Doesn’t seem to matter, that sound won’t leave me alone // And it’ll be many more years ‘til the Norfolk Southern can carry me home

There’s a creeping darkness under my skin // Though it’s been awhile since the wolf knocked, and I’ve never let him in // Still I cannot change it, cannot change that I am only flesh and bone // And I am bound to wait for the Norfolk Southern to carry me home

The day is long, and I know I’m not strong enough // These feet can’t get the job done // The night moves slow, hear the whistle blow // When’s that train gonna come?

There’s a hungry longing begging my bones // To take me back to a time when I knew my way home // Nothing looks familiar, can’t remember the places I’ve known // So I am left here just hoping the Norfolk Southern can carry me

© Gregory J. Yoder and Seth Thomas Crissman, 2016

Sitting on the bank, watch the waters go // Headed up north from the Shenando’ // Try to hold on ‘fore these things all pass // The last are the first when the first go last // The last are the first when the first go last

Night draws near, rain falls hard // These two legs have journeyed far // I pray, “please Lord, take my hand” // I am far from the promised land

Wind on the water and wind in the trees // Wind gonna blow me down to my knees // Blowin’ all the way to kingdom come // Not my will but yours be done // Not my will but yours be done

Night draws near, rain falls hard // These two legs have journeyed far // I pray, “please Lord, take my hand” // I am far from the promised land

I told Peter and I told Paul // That I’d join in the building with my hammer and saw // The water is rushing and the wind does blow // But it’s a long, long walk from the Shenando’ // Oh it’s a long, long walk from the Shenando’

Night draws near, rain falls hard // These two legs have journeyed far // I pray, “please Lord, take my hand” // I am far from the promised land

© Seth Thomas Crissman and Gregory J. Yoder, 2016

Are you lost? It begs the question // As you sit there all alone // When you arrive where you're headed // How is it that you'll know?

Desert's dry, there's no rain a comin' // Not a river bed in sight // So I pray to God in Heaven' // Cause my throat and my soul have run dry

I'd take a drink of somethin' stronger to forget a God who isn't near // Said, “Good things will surely find me” // I’m not sure Hope can find me here.

When's that rain finally comin'? // Where are those waters still? // When're we headed towards green pastures // O'er the Jordan, I'll wait until

But for now the desert's dry, there's no rain a comin' // Not a river bed in sight // So I pray to God in Heaven' // Cause my throat and my soul have run dry

© Seth Thomas Crissman, 2016

When the winter nights were long // I was working on a song // The melody danced sweetly round my head // Then spring came in a rush // And my singing voice was hushed // And now I’m almost out of words again

When the grass began to green // The world appeared serene // And life was bursting forth from things once dead // But me and my love knew // What a dreary day could do // And now we’re almost out of words again

Don't place no roses by my window // I can't see no flowers, and I've felt my share of thorns // I still walk that long dark night // I keep looking for the light // But now I'm almost out of words again

As the summer nights wear on // Long days of work may make me strong // And sweet dreams may come once more to my bed // But if you see my eyes // And they're searching empty skies // That's when I’m almost out of words again

Don’t place no roses by my window // I can’t see no flowers, and I’ve felt my share of thornsI still walk that long dark night // I keep looking for the light // And now I’m almost out of words again // I'll always walk that long dark night, // Keep on looking for the light // Even when I'm almost out of words again

© Gregory J. Yoder, 2016

Marylou wore a dress of blue // Cool and crisp as the morning dew // Tried to hide from view all the pain she knew // Trouble was a train come a rolling through

Johnny Greer was the engineer // Saw the rickety rails, knew he better steer clear // But the mind can’t fear what the heart holds dear // Indigo pleats and a runaway tear

Marylou drew nigh with a whispered sigh, // Said, “leave your train, and away let's fly // “Then turned her eye to the raven black sky, // And vanished on the wind without saying goodbye

Trouble was a train come a rolling through

Johnny’s heart awoke with the words she spoke // On the way from Boone to Roanoke // Till then he’ll choke on the billowing smoke // Coming from the train and the fire she stoked

Trouble was a train come a rolling through // Trouble was a train // Trouble was a train come a rolling through // Trouble was a train come a rolling through

© Jackson T. Maust and Gregory J. Yoder, 2016

Let me take you on a journey back // Back to those hills of North Carolina // Let me take you on a journey back // Back through those years that we would rather forget // I’m not ashamed, even though the trees have placed their blame // Even though the clouds spit on my name // But I cannot cross the Smoky Mountains

We were young and we were so in love // Back in those hills of North Carolina // We were young and we were so in love // We had it all, and we would not let go // We wanted to believe that we could be true // No matter how the winds blew // All across the Smoky Mountains

I run off and left her all alone // Back in those hills of North Carolina // I run off and left her all alone // Without a word to say where I had gone // The smoke will rise from the ashes of a dream that’s died // Drifting up to where the angels fly // All across the Smoky Mountains // The smoke will rise from the ashes of a dream that’s died // Drifting up to where the angels fly // But I cannot cross the Smoky Mountains

© Gregory J. Yoder, 2016

Cold and harsh the north wind blows // Deep in the morning early // All the hills are covered with snow // Winter’s now come fairly

When the warm sun’s laid to rest // Underneath night’s cover // Warm we’ll keep ‘til the storm’s passed // Me and my fair lover

Summer, spring, and fall are fine // Green the grass, red the roses // But if I choose one for all time // It’s winter’s arms to hold us

© Seth Thomas Crissman, 2016(v.1 from traditional English folk rhyme; author Anon.)

Sippin’ on summer, got a glass from the past, // Pass da tea to me, please; see? I got class // Iced-tea nicely sends me reminiscing to those summer time nights spent summer-time kissing // Listen, I’m not missing the summer snakes hissing // But the bliss of the kiss, mmm, this kid’s wishing his // summer never ended, summer is splendid // Lazing, watching cows grazing, I can recommend it // Spend my summer in the fields, see what they yield // Kneeling, dealing in seeds and stealing out weeds // And feeling the breeze and feeling at ease, come and go as I please // New life is coming, my wife is humming, // Guitar by the stars, I’m sprightly strumming // And nightly hoping, open skies forthcoming, // First star, wish summer-time beat’d keep drumming // Summertime livin' is good for the summertime soul

Come suppertime, I’m summertime grilling // Veggies heavy on my plate, limes summer-time chilling // In my drink, filling up the chinks in my armor left by the shawarma, // Sound the alarm, I’m loving this life, eating out most nights, // Not out in a diner, but the food’s out of sight // Got a table on the porch and it didn’t cost a fortune // Dining al fresca, and living like Gorschwin // Pardon my German, what I meant was Gershwin // George got me singing like a summertime person // “Summertime, and the living is easy, // and I’m primed to keep it light and breezy," // And tonight, though it’s cheesy, let’s dance by the moon // This’ll get you whistling a summertime tune // Toes start tapping when I start rapping // It’s the summertime, honey, so just let it happen // Summertime livin' is good for the summertime soul

© Gregory J. Yoder, 2016

I heard Virginia calling me // When I was down in Tennessee // The Smoky Mountains were in between // Me and the Blue Ridge

Whether it’s Asheville, North Caroline // Or Nashville, it will suit me fine // But I won’t be home again ‘til I’m // Back in the Blue Ridge

Blue Ridge Mountains meet me at my door // When I’m tired and I can walk no more // Carry me up Afton, show me what I’m asking for // Blue Ridge Mountains, meet me at my door

Long before she knew my name // I heard her calling all the same // Virginia whispers, “there ain’t no shame in // Loving the Blue Ridge”

Whether from Johnstown or Ohio // Or Michigan’s thumb with its low sky overhead // Seems that every road I know // Leads to the Blue Ridge

Blue Ridge Mountains meet me at my door // When I’m tired and I can walk no more // Carry me up Afton, show me what I’m asking for // Blue Ridge Mountains, meet me at my door

When my walking days are done // Virginia’s gonna carry me into the setting sun // When I rest my weary my bones // Virginia's gonna cradle them as if they were here own

Blue Ridge Mountains meet me at my door // When I’m tired and I can walk no more // Carry me up Afton, show me what I’m asking for // Blue Ridge Mountains, meet me at my door

©Gregory J. Yoder, 2016

Honey, life is funny, when it comes to having money // The more you have, the more you seem to need // Yes, the simple life is better, though at times a little wetter // An umbrella’s nice, but getting soaked is free

For the man who has the money, life is always sunny // He’s lounging on his island in the south // But for me, life is much finer in the north of Carolina // When the peaches are lounging in my mouth

Hey, this is life; it’s midnight in the meadow, dancing with the fireflies //                                   C’est, c’est la vie; it’s the little things that mean the most, // And the little things are free

My friend, I see it in your face, I too am weary of the race // Annuities and stocks have me in bonds // Allow me to suggest that we invest in what is best // A lazy restful afternoon down by the pond

Some think a friendly disposition is a medical condition // And you’re crazy if you love somebody else // But I say tell the huddled masses they can bring their sorry glasses // And we’ll fill ‘em to the brim and toast their health

Hey, this is life; it’s rising in the morning, when there are rubies in the sky // C’est, c’est la vie; it’s an old friend on a porch swing, on a chilly summer’s eve // Hey, this is life; it’s the sweet kiss that says it all, welcome home or goodbye // C’est, c’est la vie; it’s the little things that mean the most, // and the little things are free

©Gregory J. Yoder, 2016