Ichabod Lyrics - Mark Erelli

(John Greenleaf Whittier & Lorne Entress) 

So fallen, so lost, the light withdrawn 

Which once he wore 

The glory from his gray hair gone 

Forevermore 

Revile him not, the Tempter hath 

A snare for all 

And pitying tears, not scorn and wrath 

Befit his fall 

Oh dumb be passion's stormy rage 

When he who might 

Have lighted up and led his age 

Falls back in night 

Scorn, would the angels laugh to mark 

A bright soul driven 

Fiend-goaded down the endless dark 

From hope and heaven 

Let not the land once proud of him 

Insult him now 

Nor brand with deeper shame his dim 

Dishonored brow 

But let its humbled sons instead 

From sea to lake 

A long lament, as for the dead 

In sadness make 

Of all we loved and honored 

Naught save power remains 

A fallen angel's pride of thought 

Still strong in chains 

All else is gone from those great eyes 

The soul has fled 

When faith is lost when honor dies 

The man is dead 

Then pay the reverence of old days 

To his dead fame 

Walk backward with averted gaze