The Roanoke times. [volume] (Roanoke, Va.) 1890-1895, 1893-01-08
SALVATIONIST SONGS.
Martial Music Of Booths Devil
Fighting Host
Armed with Slang and Explosive Poetry
They Arc No Doubt killing Mnny OF
Gods .Foes-Exccllcnt Music by
Communicate Herbert Booth.
copyright lse2.l


lCOPYRIGnT. 1892
One of the least noticeable phases OF
CITY life to Il city bred person, is Il band
OF men and women marching to the
rolling beat of the drum, and singing,
to the rude tinkling OF shaking tam
BOURNE, songs whose swinging, ringing
melodies force the passcr-by into ryth.
mic motion.
Tho words, when carried from the
uneven, mufilcd roar of basscs and tc.,-
orS to Staccato cnunciation by some
shrill soprano arc generally found to lie
something like these:
We've something better far than tin,
the Prince of Glory dwclls within
We walk before him without sin.
Sir, this is tho Salvation Army
Or it may be that in some familiar
chorus the voices will sweep on to-
gcthcr:
Bicssodly Kept. kept by the blood;
Blcsscdly kept by tho blood of the Lamb;
linppy and free, Jesus with me;
Bcsscdly sacred. besscdly kept yes, am
1t is not unusual, when in tho midst
OF such confident and pcacefully-snnp
sentiment as this, for the Salvationists
to abruptly change their tune" to
welcome the secular guardians of or
der who may be bearing down upon
them.
Asa soldier proudly said: "The COPS
get this welcome" and to the tune of
Heres to good old whisky he Sang:
Sec the brazen hosts of hell
Art and power employing:
More than human tongue can tell
Blood bought souls destroying
1iark from Ruins CHASTITY road
victims groan beneath their load.
Forward! O. yc sons OF God
And dare die for Jcsusl
There is, perhaps, nothing more
characteristic of n religion than its
songs. a nine thousand dollar soprano
sings Ave Marias" to fashionable con-
gregations who shuddcr mt the popular
tunes and street vcrnacular of the Sal.
walton Army songs; but if the soprano
were to sing her cave Marin in
downtown alley the loungers W..
think she wanted pennies for stu
which hadn't any ''chunc" to it.
But when Il score of Salvationists
march through the alley singing slang.
lily about spiritual affairs to the band
music of Marguerite" or 'Knocll Him
Down, McClosky,' the loungcrs know
pennies aren't expected. and strarrlc
along to the barracks to find out what
the noise is all about. The songs of the
people have reached the people, and the
master of music himself could not
make music do more. Many of these
street marching songs have been
written by the converts who have come
from the streets and have worked out
their own peculiar daring and warlike
salvation"
Here is one written by Lontlonc-,
who was known as the Mayor of the
SandGelds," title conferred upon the
worst character and the hardest drinlxer
in the neighborhood. The "Mavorr en-
joycd the distinction of being elected to
ride upon q plank three successive
years before his conversion. His favoritc
Song when singing on spree was
There's No One Like Mother Can
Cheer Me To-day, and to it he set
these words:
I've travelled the rough path OF life in my day,
Dut Jesus, lie met me upon the broad way,
lie pardoncd my Sins, my soul He set free,
Ana the broadway TO death is now vacant for
And here is one which is, in the csti-
nation of the class for whom it is writ
ten, dcservedly popular 1t returns to
'iiS loc III iiiCipico Ol religion Nlien the
devil wore red silk tights and carried a
pitchforls and could sustain polite
conversation:
Now the devil wants me back again 10 what
have been,
But tell him have found better friend, and
I'm not quite green.
When tell him Jesus saved me- " he answers
"What stuff"
Then tell him of his service have had quite
enough;
And tell him I've deserted him, and that soon
makes him frown;
And tell him that the Blood now cleanses me-
and that soon knocks him down.
so, don't you sec, when you're properly con-
vertcd, and your heart is quite clean,
I gu can snap your fingers al Beelzebub YOU
know who I mean.
The song which has gone round the
world from the African Welt to the
Indian bungalow. was written by Com
mander Herbert Booth to Capt. Pear
sons words.
They call it the army war song, be-
cause it was used more than any other
one at the Torquay and Eastbourne
riots in England. The melody is at
once plaintive and martial:
'W9en tbe Trumpet Sounds
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