Sunday morning, Birmingham, quiet in the church
Bombs were planted, House of God, children's blood on the cross
And your daughter, she was one, angel without wings
How could anyone forgive those who do such things
And when I sing Amazing Grace, your face is what I see
I hope someday that kind of grace will find its way through me
Friday evening in Mobile, klansmen killing time
Saw young Michael walking by, he would do just fine
Quiet student, mother's best, pleading for his life
Strung him up to make a point, sharper than a knife
Beulah Mae, his mother stood, people all around
In the courtroom listening, as the truth was found
From her mouth no curses fell, no profanity
"I would do to others what I'd have them do to me..."
And when I sing Amazing Grace, her face is what I see
I hope someday that kind of grace will find its way through me
Thursday afternoon in the car, turned the radio on
The verdict in Los Angeles, oh what have we done
Images of violence, yellow, black and white
Fifty-two dead, millions lost, who can win this fight
On the screen a face of tears, trembling through and through
One we've seen so many times beaten on the news
I could barely hear his words, full of fear and doubt
"People, we can't live like this, we've got to work this out
And when I sing Amazing Grace, that face is what I see
I hope someday that kind of grace will find its way through me
Bombs were planted, House of God, children's blood on the cross
And your daughter, she was one, angel without wings
How could anyone forgive those who do such things
And when I sing Amazing Grace, your face is what I see
I hope someday that kind of grace will find its way through me
Friday evening in Mobile, klansmen killing time
Saw young Michael walking by, he would do just fine
Quiet student, mother's best, pleading for his life
Strung him up to make a point, sharper than a knife
Beulah Mae, his mother stood, people all around
In the courtroom listening, as the truth was found
From her mouth no curses fell, no profanity
"I would do to others what I'd have them do to me..."
And when I sing Amazing Grace, her face is what I see
I hope someday that kind of grace will find its way through me
Thursday afternoon in the car, turned the radio on
The verdict in Los Angeles, oh what have we done
Images of violence, yellow, black and white
Fifty-two dead, millions lost, who can win this fight
On the screen a face of tears, trembling through and through
One we've seen so many times beaten on the news
I could barely hear his words, full of fear and doubt
"People, we can't live like this, we've got to work this out
And when I sing Amazing Grace, that face is what I see
I hope someday that kind of grace will find its way through me
Language: English
Additional lyrics © 1998, 1999 David Roth
Tuesday afternoon...Jonesboro, fire alarm at school
Everyone goes rushing out into bloody pools
Thirteen and eleven years old, playing grown-up games
Mimicking what they’d been taught, now we’ll never be the same
Every year they’re younger now, drugs and knives and guns
Barely old enough to know the depth of what they’ve done
Taken off to juvenile hall, Sheriff shakes his head
A teacher tried to block the shots, gave her life instead
When I sing Amazing Grace her face is what I see
I hope some day that kind of grace will find it’s way through me
Wednesday evening, Wyoming, started in a bar
Ended on a wooden fence, dragged off in a car
Second Friday funeral, countless gathered round
Some were there to mourn the loss, others there to confound
Some were there to cry the tears born of grief and rage
Others carried signs that said "A Cure for Fags is Aids"
Matthew Shepard lost his life, his parents lost their son
Now he brings a cause to light, reluctant martyrdom
When I sing Amazing Grace his face is what I see
I hope some day some kind of grace will find it’s way through me
"Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound
That saved a wretch like me
I once was lost, but now I'm found
Was blind, but now I see"
Everyone goes rushing out into bloody pools
Thirteen and eleven years old, playing grown-up games
Mimicking what they’d been taught, now we’ll never be the same
Every year they’re younger now, drugs and knives and guns
Barely old enough to know the depth of what they’ve done
Taken off to juvenile hall, Sheriff shakes his head
A teacher tried to block the shots, gave her life instead
When I sing Amazing Grace her face is what I see
I hope some day that kind of grace will find it’s way through me
Wednesday evening, Wyoming, started in a bar
Ended on a wooden fence, dragged off in a car
Second Friday funeral, countless gathered round
Some were there to mourn the loss, others there to confound
Some were there to cry the tears born of grief and rage
Others carried signs that said "A Cure for Fags is Aids"
Matthew Shepard lost his life, his parents lost their son
Now he brings a cause to light, reluctant martyrdom
When I sing Amazing Grace his face is what I see
I hope some day some kind of grace will find it’s way through me
"Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound
That saved a wretch like me
I once was lost, but now I'm found
Was blind, but now I see"
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Note for non-Italian users: Sorry, though the interface of this website is translated into English, most commentaries and biographies are in Italian and/or in other languages like French, German, Spanish, Russian etc.
by Anne Hills & David Roth
Album: Rising in Love - 1993
This song was originally inspired by people who have faced civil rights violations within their communities and families. The forgiveness they displayed goes beyond what would seem humanly possible.
Specifically, Mrs. Alpha Robertson whose daughter Carole was killed in the Birmingham church bombing, Beulah Mae Donald whose son was lynched in 1981 by the KKK, and Rodney King, whose violent beating by LA police officers (and their
subsequent acquittal in the first trial) provided painful examples of the continuing racial injustice within the U.S. legal system