In the chatter of the morning street noise,
I awakened to a procession stepping in time
With the clashing of timbrels.
Selah … Selah … Selah
The singers passed in front of me
As the minstrels played in harmony
With the clashing of timbrels.
A beautiful maiden on a horse-drawn wagon,
And soldiers with golden armor—
With the clashing of timbrels.
I looked to where it was headed:
To a gathering at the sanctuary,
With the clashing of timbrels.
Selah … Selah … Selah
(A past life memory)