"His Robe" as written by Joseph Ross Westerlund, Bradley William Cook and Phil Cook....
I knew of a man
Who knew life from death
It was in a book that I had read
He was hung to death
Reluctant and
To his grave they dare not go

I've been walking on this road
This road, this road
Waiting for his hands to wash my own
My own, my own
Wipe the dust from my wrist with his mighty robe
His robe, his robe
To the promised land I will sure forever go

There's a child of mine
Laying sick in bed
He was caught with a wound that could not mend
I called on the Lord to come down and restore
But my cries weren't heard from the Lord

I've been walking on this road
This road, this road
Waiting for his hands to wash my own
My own, my own
Wipe the dust from my wrist with his mighty robe
His robe, his robe
To the promised land I will sure forever go

One thing is for sure
When the child is dead
There will be no tears on my own eyes
They'll just turn their heads
And ignore the dead
Civil fools, way to be so cold

I've been walking on this road
This road, this road
Waiting for his hands to wash my own
My own, my own
Wipe the dust from my wrist with his mighty robe
His robe, his robe
To the promised land I will sure forever go

All this time gone by
Thought he had saved
And be good from hearts that were full of rage
Now I know for sure
That he brought the war
Oh, and retribution's near

I've been walking on this road
This road, this road
Waiting for his hands to wash my own
My own, my own
Wipe the dust from my wrist with his mighty robe
His robe, his robe
To the promised land I will sure forever go


Lyrics submitted by jjjonatron

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