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OH, de worril is roun’ en de worril is wide—
Lord! ’member deze chillun in de mornin’—
Hit’s a mighty long ways up de mountain side,
En dey ain’t no place fer dem sinners fer ter hide,
En dey ain’t no place whar sin kin abide,
W’en do Lord shill come in do mornin’!
Look up en look aroun’,
Fling yo’ burden on de groun’,
Hit’s a gittin’ mighty close on ter mornin’!
Smoove away sin’s frown—
Retch up en git de crown,
W’at do Lord will fetch in de mornin’!
De han’ er ridem’shun, hit’s hik out ter you—
Lord! ’member dem sinners in do mornin’!
Hit’s a mighty pashent han’, but de days is but few,
W’en Satun, he’ll come a demandin’ un his due,
En de stiff-neck sinners ’ll be smotin’ all fru—
Oh, you better git ready for do mornin’!
Look up en set yo’ face
Todes do green hills or grace
’fo’ do sun rises up in do mornin’—
Oh, you better change yo’ base,
Hits yo’ soul’s las’ race
For do glory dat’s a comin’ in do mornin’!
Do farmer gits ready w’en de lan’s all plowed
For ter sow dom seeds in de mornin’
De sperrit may be puny en do flesh may be proud,
But you better cut loose fum de scoffin’ crowd,
En jino dose Christuns w’at’s a cryin’ out loud
Fer do Lord fer ter come in de momin’!
Shout loud en shout long,
Lot do ekkoes ans’or strong,
W’on do sun rises up in do mornin’!
Oh, you allers will be wrong
Twel you choose ter belong
Tor do Marster w’at’s a comin’ in do mornin’!
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In the days of slavery, the religious services held by the negroes
who accompanied their owners to the camp-meetings were
marvels of earnestness and devotion. [back]
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