| Only a tramp was Lazarus that day
|
| He who lay down by the rich man’s gate
|
| And he begged for the crumbs from the rich man to eat
|
| But they left him to die like a tramp on the street
|
| He was some mother’s darling, he was some mother’s son
|
| Once he was fair, once he was young
|
| Some mother rocked him, little darling, to sleep
|
| But they left him to die like a tramp on the street
|
| If Jesus should come, knock at your door
|
| Would you let him come in, take from your store
|
| Would you turn him away, with nothing to eat
|
| They left him to die like a tramp on the street
|
| He was Mary’s own darling, God’s chosen son
|
| Once he was fair, once he was young
|
| And Mary, she rocked him, little darling to sleep
|
| And she left him to die like a tramp on the street
|
| Jesus who died on Calvary’s tree
|
| Shed his life’s blood for you and me
|
| They pierced his side, his hands, and his feet
|
| Then they left him to die like a tramp on the street
|
| If Jesus should come and knock o your door
|
| For a place to lie down or bread from your store
|
| Would you welcome him in or turn him away
|
| For God would reward you on the great Judgment Day |