Gene Clark - White light

^EOh, the village of the hill Sitting ^Asilently at will Like some ^F#mprophecy forgo^Atten by an ^Eage ^EWith no guns before its gate The ^Amysterious estate Lies ^F#mwaiting for its ^Ahistory's dawning ^Epage With the ^Araging ^A/G#of the ^F#msea before its h^Eeight And the ^Astrength of ^A/G#those whom ^F#msee beyond their ^Esight^{E A F#m A E E}Oh, the smithies anvil rings And the ^Asymphony it sings No ^F#mvoice nor poet's ^Apen can put to ^Etune ^EAnd electric lines of force Ring ^Aaround the humble lives Of the ^F#msouls that hear the ^Amaster saying ^Esoon With the ^Aclouds that ^A/G#gather ^F#mnear disturb the ^Enight Striking f^Alashes ^A/G#of a ^F#mdifference, fleeing ^Efri^Eght ^{E A F#m A E E}No slight of tongue nor hand Can so ^Aboldly there withstand ^AWhen the ^F#mspirit of it's ^Atruth shall speak the t^Eime ^EAnd no ignorance of life Can be ^Aheld within the sight Of the ^F#mbuttresses of ^Aageless binds of t^Eime The ^Acommunion^A/G# of the f^F#morces take delig^Eht A A#G F#m E E E A F#m A E With the fear that no tongues may read nor write ^EWhite Light ^EOh the village of the hill Sitting ^Asilently still With the ^F#mstrength of ages ^Apast they're still at ^Ehand ^EReckons not to look behind But to ^Alook within and find And to ^F#mhear of those ^Aenlightened by the ^Elamb With the ^Apowers ^A/G#of the^F#m wind both fierce and ^Elight And the ^Awaters ^A/G#of the ^F#mstorm went through the ^Enight