The Project Gutenberg eBook ofPoems

The Project Gutenberg eBook ofPoemsThis ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online atwww.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.Title: PoemsAuthor: Jamie Harris ColemanRelease date: March 10, 2016 [eBook #51415]Most recently updated: October 23, 2024Language: EnglishCredits: Produced by Larry B. Harrison, Chuck Greif and the OnlineDistributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (Thisfile was produced from images generously made availableby The Internet Archive)*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POEMS ***

This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online atwww.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.

Title: PoemsAuthor: Jamie Harris ColemanRelease date: March 10, 2016 [eBook #51415]Most recently updated: October 23, 2024Language: EnglishCredits: Produced by Larry B. Harrison, Chuck Greif and the OnlineDistributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (Thisfile was produced from images generously made availableby The Internet Archive)

Title: Poems

Author: Jamie Harris Coleman

Release date: March 10, 2016 [eBook #51415]Most recently updated: October 23, 2024

Language: English

Credits: Produced by Larry B. Harrison, Chuck Greif and the OnlineDistributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (Thisfile was produced from images generously made availableby The Internet Archive)

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POEMS ***

POEMSByJamie Harris ColemanPrice 25 CentsPublished ByJOHN P. MORTON & COMPANYINCORPORATEDLouisville, Kentucky

ByJamie Harris ColemanPrice 25 CentsPublished ByJOHN P. MORTON & COMPANYINCORPORATEDLouisville, Kentucky

WHAT IS POETRY?

A group of poetry lovers asked the question, offering a prize of $50.00 for the best answer, and received five thousand responses. The definition was restricted to thirty-five words, and must be in poetry. The judges were Florence Wilkinson, Edith Wynne Matthison, Ridgley Torrence, Robert Frost, Edwin Markham and George E. Woodberry.

Definitions of poetry came from every State in the Union, and also from London, Canada, Hawaii and Bermuda. The prize went to Miss Laney, a Pawtucket (R. I.) school girl, who sent the following:

The magic light that springsFrom the deep soul of thingsWhen, called by their true names,Their essence is set free;The word, illuminate,Showing the soul’s estate,Baring the hearts of men,Poetry!

Poetry is the setting free of “the deep soul of things” and the calling things by their “true names” so that men may know them. It is the imaginative expression of spiritual truth. It is thought, passion, life expressed in images.

With this forecast I subjoin a brief history of the writer of these lines in this little booklet and ask your considerate perusal.

Jamie Harris was born September 20, 1893, in Mayfield, Ky. In 1907 she completed the course of study prescribed for the City Public School of that place. After the death of her mother in January, 1908, and subsequently the illness of her father, she was removed to Louisville, Ky., by two older sisters in March, 1908. After reaching Louisville urgent demands made it necessary for her to abandon the idea of going to school and to seek employment, that her younger brother and sister might be kept in school and cared for. She reluctantly gave up day school but a few years later the deep seated thirst for education prompted her to enter night school where she remained until she finished in 1914. From a child of nine years she showed that she was poetically inclined but she did not attempt to cultivate this taste until 1912. Since that time she has written a large number of poems and one play, dramatized from the book of “Ruth” and known as “Ruth the Gleaner,” which was played in sixteen Louisville churches. Her first recital of her poems was in Calvary Baptist Church, Louisville, Ky., October, 1913. Since that time she has occasionally traveled, giving recitals of her own poems and it is to be hoped that in the future a larger number may be given to the public.

Rev. C. H. Parrish, D. D., F. R. G. S.

Tuskegee is finished, thy work is done,And God hath called thee home to rest;Thy name shall live thru ages to come,Thy soul in peace among the blessed.Thy perpetuated monument shall stand,For millions to gaze thereon;To praise thee for thy noble work,And forget thee not tho thou art gone.Hard was thy task, thou gavest not up,Until it was complete;Tuskegee is a noble trophy,To lay at thy Savior’s feet.Some hissed at thee, some honored thee,While laboring for thy fellow-man;But nevertheless thou finished thy course,And thy footprints are left in the sand.We honor thee for thy noble work,That helped a trodden race;We doubt that there will ever be,Another to take thy place.We shall behold thee no more, for thou art gone,Thy body back to dust, from whence it came;Thy soul hath returned to the God that gaveth,Yet we love and honor thy name.The artist shall paint thy picture,For coming generations to behold;And write the name Booker T. Washington,In letters of pure gold.

Tuskegee is finished, thy work is done,And God hath called thee home to rest;Thy name shall live thru ages to come,Thy soul in peace among the blessed.

Thy perpetuated monument shall stand,For millions to gaze thereon;To praise thee for thy noble work,And forget thee not tho thou art gone.

Hard was thy task, thou gavest not up,Until it was complete;Tuskegee is a noble trophy,To lay at thy Savior’s feet.

Some hissed at thee, some honored thee,While laboring for thy fellow-man;But nevertheless thou finished thy course,And thy footprints are left in the sand.

We honor thee for thy noble work,That helped a trodden race;We doubt that there will ever be,Another to take thy place.

We shall behold thee no more, for thou art gone,Thy body back to dust, from whence it came;Thy soul hath returned to the God that gaveth,Yet we love and honor thy name.

The artist shall paint thy picture,For coming generations to behold;And write the name Booker T. Washington,In letters of pure gold.

Childhood years are passing o’er us,Days of youth will soon be gone;Many a sorrow lies before us,Many a dangerous snare unknown.Oh, may He who is meek and lowly,Abide with us thru sin and woe;Make us His and keep us holy,Guide and guard us as we go.May our lives be as a sunbeam,Each day beaming fair and bright;Leading someone’s wearied soul,From the darkness to the light.When our work on earth is finished,And life’s race has been run;May we hear a voice from heaven,Saying, it was faithfully done.Then on the other side of Jordan,Where all things are bright and fair;Where the angels are sweetly singing,There a crown and robe we’ll wear.No more sickness, no more sorrow,No more death we’ll feel or see;But with Jesus and His angels,We shall dwell eternally.

Childhood years are passing o’er us,Days of youth will soon be gone;Many a sorrow lies before us,Many a dangerous snare unknown.

Oh, may He who is meek and lowly,Abide with us thru sin and woe;Make us His and keep us holy,Guide and guard us as we go.

May our lives be as a sunbeam,Each day beaming fair and bright;Leading someone’s wearied soul,From the darkness to the light.

When our work on earth is finished,And life’s race has been run;May we hear a voice from heaven,Saying, it was faithfully done.

Then on the other side of Jordan,Where all things are bright and fair;Where the angels are sweetly singing,There a crown and robe we’ll wear.

No more sickness, no more sorrow,No more death we’ll feel or see;But with Jesus and His angels,We shall dwell eternally.

Unnumbered tears the nations now are shedding,Unnumbered drops of blood are yet to flow;Unnumbered souls the call to arms are dreading,But silently and humbly they go.Unnumbered mothers’ hearts are aching,Unnumbered homes have lost a noble son;Unnumbered orphans this war is making,And still, sorrows have just begun.The wickedness of men has caused this war,And God can only tell who is to win.From God’s ways they have strayed so far,Until they are lost in darkness and sin.Who knows what God has planned for coming ages?Who knows what the morrow will bring?Yet, over honor and wealth each nation rages,While nature of its Creator sings.Oh, nations of the earth, the day is nearingWhen the Son of God is coming to judge the world.Instead of strife, His name all should be fearing,For the flag of His wrath shall be unfurled.Confess that He is over every nation;Confess that He is true and just;Confess that He’s the author of creation—Then serve Him only and in Him put your trust.Will God answer the prayer of any nationWhose hearts are full of prejudice and strife?No. He answers the prayers of the righteous,And the righteous shall inherit “Eternal Life.”

Unnumbered tears the nations now are shedding,Unnumbered drops of blood are yet to flow;Unnumbered souls the call to arms are dreading,But silently and humbly they go.

Unnumbered mothers’ hearts are aching,Unnumbered homes have lost a noble son;Unnumbered orphans this war is making,And still, sorrows have just begun.

The wickedness of men has caused this war,And God can only tell who is to win.From God’s ways they have strayed so far,Until they are lost in darkness and sin.

Who knows what God has planned for coming ages?Who knows what the morrow will bring?Yet, over honor and wealth each nation rages,While nature of its Creator sings.

Oh, nations of the earth, the day is nearingWhen the Son of God is coming to judge the world.Instead of strife, His name all should be fearing,For the flag of His wrath shall be unfurled.

Confess that He is over every nation;Confess that He is true and just;Confess that He’s the author of creation—Then serve Him only and in Him put your trust.

Will God answer the prayer of any nationWhose hearts are full of prejudice and strife?No. He answers the prayers of the righteous,And the righteous shall inherit “Eternal Life.”

O dove of peace, where art thou now?Come soothe man’s wearied soul;Bring him a message of peace,Far better than honor or gold.Thy hiding place to man is unknown,For his path is dark with sin;Bring him a message from on high,From Christ his dearest friend.He is trusting in his own weak power,Instead of God’s holy word;Come stop the sounds of cannons and guns,That thy message may be heard.Come quickly we pray, O dove of peace,For men are tramping God’s mercies under their feet;Women and children are without food,O come we earnestly entreat.O come dove of peace in these days of turmoil,Teach men that the message was sent;From God our Creator and King of all men,Who is pleading with them to repent.His spirit will not always strive with man,When gone it will return no more;Ye ungodly men who are ignoring his word,He is knocking at your heart’s door.O dove of peace, O come, O come,Sound thy message of peace and love;Until every nation shall lay down arms,And look to God who reigns above.

O dove of peace, where art thou now?Come soothe man’s wearied soul;Bring him a message of peace,Far better than honor or gold.

Thy hiding place to man is unknown,For his path is dark with sin;Bring him a message from on high,From Christ his dearest friend.

He is trusting in his own weak power,Instead of God’s holy word;Come stop the sounds of cannons and guns,That thy message may be heard.

Come quickly we pray, O dove of peace,For men are tramping God’s mercies under their feet;Women and children are without food,O come we earnestly entreat.

O come dove of peace in these days of turmoil,Teach men that the message was sent;From God our Creator and King of all men,Who is pleading with them to repent.

His spirit will not always strive with man,When gone it will return no more;Ye ungodly men who are ignoring his word,He is knocking at your heart’s door.

O dove of peace, O come, O come,Sound thy message of peace and love;Until every nation shall lay down arms,And look to God who reigns above.

Life is like a rose,Looking fair to-day;Gradually it grows,Then fades away.Character is the perfume,Flying in the air;Useful works the solemn tune,Playing everywhere.Like the trees when clothed in green,Give us shade and beauty;We can let our works be seen,If we do our duty.Sometimes the path of life is sunshine,And our hearts are filled with gladness;But when the path of life is cloudy,Our hearts are filled with sadness.When life is spent in usefulness,It’s more than what it seems;But when it’s spent in idleness,It passes like a dream.Life depends on what we make it,We should strive to do our best;Helping self and helping others,Sowing seeds of usefulness.Life is measured not by color,But is measured by our deeds;Length of years count us nothing,If we sow not useful seed.Life is adorned with many roses,Many fashions and many forms;So be careful in your plucking,For among the roses are many thorns.

Life is like a rose,Looking fair to-day;Gradually it grows,Then fades away.

Character is the perfume,Flying in the air;Useful works the solemn tune,Playing everywhere.

Like the trees when clothed in green,Give us shade and beauty;We can let our works be seen,If we do our duty.

Sometimes the path of life is sunshine,And our hearts are filled with gladness;But when the path of life is cloudy,Our hearts are filled with sadness.

When life is spent in usefulness,It’s more than what it seems;But when it’s spent in idleness,It passes like a dream.

Life depends on what we make it,We should strive to do our best;Helping self and helping others,Sowing seeds of usefulness.

Life is measured not by color,But is measured by our deeds;Length of years count us nothing,If we sow not useful seed.

Life is adorned with many roses,Many fashions and many forms;So be careful in your plucking,For among the roses are many thorns.

O waves of the ocean since the world was created,You have been beating against the land;You come and go, to and fro,And cleanse the grains of sand.O ocean blue, your waves roll high,What a wonderful sight to behold;The billows foam o’er the depths unknown,And the lives lost on you are untold.The joy of the sailor thou art, O waves,Your roaring is heard far away;You dash so high you seem to touch the sky,Resting not night or day.Sailing, sailing, away goes the ship,Plunging thru the waves she goes;Trying her best to stand the test,Whether she’ll reach the harbor, who knows.

O waves of the ocean since the world was created,You have been beating against the land;You come and go, to and fro,And cleanse the grains of sand.

O ocean blue, your waves roll high,What a wonderful sight to behold;The billows foam o’er the depths unknown,And the lives lost on you are untold.

The joy of the sailor thou art, O waves,Your roaring is heard far away;You dash so high you seem to touch the sky,Resting not night or day.

Sailing, sailing, away goes the ship,Plunging thru the waves she goes;Trying her best to stand the test,Whether she’ll reach the harbor, who knows.

When the chills of death creep upon this temple,And silently life shall steal away;Preserve the soul, O God, my Saviour,In rest until the Perfect Day.Undisturbed rest, and peaceful slumber,Prepared for those who will obey;Sleep, O soul, in peaceful slumber,Sleep until the Perfect Day.Nothing can ever fret or wake thee,Tho’ rocks and mountains fade away;Sleep, O soul, in peaceful slumber,Sleep until the Perfect Day.Life doth come just for a season,Then the body returns to clay;But the soul in sweetest slumberShall rest until the Perfect Day.What a joy, what a blessing,When we shall hear the Master say,“Come, ye blessed of My Father,”Rest until the Perfect Day.Rest from cares, from frets and labor;Thou has walked the narrow way;Rest till the time on earth is finished—Rest until the Perfect Day.When all the saints are gathered together,And all in spotless robes’ array,Then around the throne praise God forever,Will this not be the Perfect Day?

When the chills of death creep upon this temple,And silently life shall steal away;Preserve the soul, O God, my Saviour,In rest until the Perfect Day.

Undisturbed rest, and peaceful slumber,Prepared for those who will obey;Sleep, O soul, in peaceful slumber,Sleep until the Perfect Day.

Nothing can ever fret or wake thee,Tho’ rocks and mountains fade away;Sleep, O soul, in peaceful slumber,Sleep until the Perfect Day.

Life doth come just for a season,Then the body returns to clay;But the soul in sweetest slumberShall rest until the Perfect Day.

What a joy, what a blessing,When we shall hear the Master say,“Come, ye blessed of My Father,”Rest until the Perfect Day.

Rest from cares, from frets and labor;Thou has walked the narrow way;Rest till the time on earth is finished—Rest until the Perfect Day.

When all the saints are gathered together,And all in spotless robes’ array,Then around the throne praise God forever,Will this not be the Perfect Day?

On yonder mountain upon the cross,A Man died to save the lost.O, there He hung in agony,Upon the Cross of Calvary.When man was lost in wickednessAnd this world a sin-cursed wilderness,He gave His life for you and me,Upon the Cross of Calvary.O how the blood ran from His side,O how He suffered before he died.The nail prints in His hands I see,Upon the Cross of Calvary.The earth did shake while He hung there;The sins of the world He had to bear.Oh! draw me nearer and nearer to Thee,O blessed Lamb of Calvary.A crown of thorns they made Him wear,The heavy cross they made Him bear.That smiling face I long to see,O Thou who died on Calvary.An angel came on Easter dayAnd rolled the heavy stone away.Once more the sinful world did seeThe Christ who died on Calvary.He is risen! the tidings spread;They killed Him, but He rose from the dead.He reigns again, and ever shall beThe King, who died on Calvary.Redemption’s debt, He has paid it all;O sinner, listen, and heed His call.That debt was paid for you and me,Upon the Cross of Calvary.I love to feel the cleansing streamRoll o’er my heart and make me clean;That precious blood that was shed for meUpon the Cross of Calvary.I’ll trust Him while I tread life’s path;He’ll shield me from His coming wrath.With Him in glory I long to be,The blessed Lamb of Calvary.He is ready and willing now to receiveAll who will trust Him and believe.Still He is calling “Come unto me,”The debt was paid on Calvary.There is peace and joy with Him above;There is happiness and perfect love.My soul shall rest when there I’ll beWith Him, who died on Calvary.Sinner, He is knocking at your heart’s door,Believe, trust Him, reject no more.He paid the debt for you and me,Remember the Cross of Calvary.

On yonder mountain upon the cross,A Man died to save the lost.O, there He hung in agony,Upon the Cross of Calvary.

When man was lost in wickednessAnd this world a sin-cursed wilderness,He gave His life for you and me,Upon the Cross of Calvary.

O how the blood ran from His side,O how He suffered before he died.The nail prints in His hands I see,Upon the Cross of Calvary.

The earth did shake while He hung there;The sins of the world He had to bear.Oh! draw me nearer and nearer to Thee,O blessed Lamb of Calvary.

A crown of thorns they made Him wear,The heavy cross they made Him bear.That smiling face I long to see,O Thou who died on Calvary.

An angel came on Easter dayAnd rolled the heavy stone away.Once more the sinful world did seeThe Christ who died on Calvary.

He is risen! the tidings spread;They killed Him, but He rose from the dead.He reigns again, and ever shall beThe King, who died on Calvary.

Redemption’s debt, He has paid it all;O sinner, listen, and heed His call.That debt was paid for you and me,Upon the Cross of Calvary.

I love to feel the cleansing streamRoll o’er my heart and make me clean;That precious blood that was shed for meUpon the Cross of Calvary.

I’ll trust Him while I tread life’s path;He’ll shield me from His coming wrath.With Him in glory I long to be,The blessed Lamb of Calvary.

He is ready and willing now to receiveAll who will trust Him and believe.Still He is calling “Come unto me,”The debt was paid on Calvary.

There is peace and joy with Him above;There is happiness and perfect love.My soul shall rest when there I’ll beWith Him, who died on Calvary.

Sinner, He is knocking at your heart’s door,Believe, trust Him, reject no more.He paid the debt for you and me,Remember the Cross of Calvary.

Peace had come and the bond was free,Lincoln was as happy as he could be;He was enjoying amusement with his wife,When a demon robbed him of his life.Sadly and quickly the message fled,Lincoln the emancipator is dead;The shocking news ran mad and wild,From the oldest to the youngest child.The North and the South together moaned,The grief-stricken blacks together groaned;For the nation had lost its greatest man,Who in deeds of wrong took no hand.The poor ex-slaves with tear-dimmed eyes,Were broken-hearted and full of sighs;Fearing that back to slavery they would have to go,In the field with the mule, the plow and the hoe.To toil daily in the cold and heat,To be kicked around, cursed and beat;They felt they had lost their dearest friend,Who believed in the freedom of all men.The Emancipation was written to place,A stamp upon the Negro race;And as long as the United States shall stand,No slaves shall breathe upon her land.The trodden race continued in prayer,To God for His love and His care;Until the cloud was moved away,And turned their darkness into day.They praised the Lord in words and song,And freely forgave their masters’ wrongs;They felt that God would do the rest,For He alone knows what is best.The years that they spent were sad and long,Tho’ in their heart they sang the song;Of future years when they would be free,And the path of knowledge they longed to see.God raised the curtain for them to view,The path of knowledge and to tread it too;And to-day we find them in all walks of life,Amid the hardships and the strife.They have come thru the forest,Been pierced by the brier;They are going onward and upward,By brain and by plow.

Peace had come and the bond was free,Lincoln was as happy as he could be;He was enjoying amusement with his wife,When a demon robbed him of his life.

Sadly and quickly the message fled,Lincoln the emancipator is dead;The shocking news ran mad and wild,From the oldest to the youngest child.

The North and the South together moaned,The grief-stricken blacks together groaned;For the nation had lost its greatest man,Who in deeds of wrong took no hand.

The poor ex-slaves with tear-dimmed eyes,Were broken-hearted and full of sighs;Fearing that back to slavery they would have to go,In the field with the mule, the plow and the hoe.

To toil daily in the cold and heat,To be kicked around, cursed and beat;They felt they had lost their dearest friend,Who believed in the freedom of all men.

The Emancipation was written to place,A stamp upon the Negro race;And as long as the United States shall stand,No slaves shall breathe upon her land.

The trodden race continued in prayer,To God for His love and His care;Until the cloud was moved away,And turned their darkness into day.

They praised the Lord in words and song,And freely forgave their masters’ wrongs;They felt that God would do the rest,For He alone knows what is best.

The years that they spent were sad and long,Tho’ in their heart they sang the song;Of future years when they would be free,And the path of knowledge they longed to see.

God raised the curtain for them to view,The path of knowledge and to tread it too;And to-day we find them in all walks of life,Amid the hardships and the strife.

They have come thru the forest,Been pierced by the brier;They are going onward and upward,By brain and by plow.

When I am absent, sweetheart,And you are left alone;Will you spend your time in sighingFor me to come back home?How well I know you’ll miss me,For I know that I’ll miss you;Tho’ we may be far apart, dear,Yet my love for you will be true.I often sit and wonder,And life’s love song repeat;Ah! because I love you only,Is what makes life so sweet.With you alone I’m happy,And when we are apart I sigh;I wish each moment and hour,That you were ever nigh.O tell me, sweetheart, when I’m absent,Do you love me as when I’m near;Do you yearn for my returning,Do you sigh or shed one tear?The roses bring sweet fragrance,And twilight brings the dew;The birds sing songs of gladness,Ah! true love will bring me to you.

When I am absent, sweetheart,And you are left alone;Will you spend your time in sighingFor me to come back home?

How well I know you’ll miss me,For I know that I’ll miss you;Tho’ we may be far apart, dear,Yet my love for you will be true.

I often sit and wonder,And life’s love song repeat;Ah! because I love you only,Is what makes life so sweet.

With you alone I’m happy,And when we are apart I sigh;I wish each moment and hour,That you were ever nigh.

O tell me, sweetheart, when I’m absent,Do you love me as when I’m near;Do you yearn for my returning,Do you sigh or shed one tear?

The roses bring sweet fragrance,And twilight brings the dew;The birds sing songs of gladness,Ah! true love will bring me to you.

There’ll be no prejudice shown in heaven,All will have robes as white as snow;Some may have, a crown more starry,For the service rendered here below.Together around the heavenly throne,Praising the Father and the Son;Every race shall be represented,Singing sweetly, “Thy will be done.”There’ll be no back seat for the Negro,Prejudice cannot reach that shore;Love, peace and tranquility,Will be the joys forevermore.Jim-crowism shall be forgotten,Justice be given to everyone;All alike will be Saints of Glory,Praising the Father and the Son.No race shall be called superior,For we all were made alike;God has no respect to person,Be he black or be he white.The streets are gold and the gates are pearl,Yet Segregation is not there;No one ever scorns another,But in loving communion the joys they share.The rich, the poor, the black, the white,He died for every one;The lowest can be cleansed and saved,By believing on the Son.

There’ll be no prejudice shown in heaven,All will have robes as white as snow;Some may have, a crown more starry,For the service rendered here below.

Together around the heavenly throne,Praising the Father and the Son;Every race shall be represented,Singing sweetly, “Thy will be done.”

There’ll be no back seat for the Negro,Prejudice cannot reach that shore;Love, peace and tranquility,Will be the joys forevermore.

Jim-crowism shall be forgotten,Justice be given to everyone;All alike will be Saints of Glory,Praising the Father and the Son.

No race shall be called superior,For we all were made alike;God has no respect to person,Be he black or be he white.

The streets are gold and the gates are pearl,Yet Segregation is not there;No one ever scorns another,But in loving communion the joys they share.

The rich, the poor, the black, the white,He died for every one;The lowest can be cleansed and saved,By believing on the Son.

Sometime success, sometimes failures,In life’s battle we often meet;But its our duty to keep on climbing,Whether a victory or defeat.Let us then keep moving onward,Never get discouraged and stop;If we keep on climbing upward,We will some day reach the top.When we reach the long-struggled-for summit,With memory gazing o’er the past;Clothed in pleasant smiles we’ll whisper,Thanks be to God we are here at last.Here we find the summit roomy,Here we see a faithful few;Who have stood life’s stormy billows,And its obstacles did subdue.Now we’ll not sit here in comfort,Just because we’ve reached our goal;For love and sympathy we’ll be up and doing,Helping some other struggling soul.When we reach life’s golden summit,A new work awaits to be begun;So we must keep moving onward,Till all the work of this life is done.

Sometime success, sometimes failures,In life’s battle we often meet;But its our duty to keep on climbing,Whether a victory or defeat.

Let us then keep moving onward,Never get discouraged and stop;If we keep on climbing upward,We will some day reach the top.

When we reach the long-struggled-for summit,With memory gazing o’er the past;Clothed in pleasant smiles we’ll whisper,Thanks be to God we are here at last.

Here we find the summit roomy,Here we see a faithful few;Who have stood life’s stormy billows,And its obstacles did subdue.

Now we’ll not sit here in comfort,Just because we’ve reached our goal;For love and sympathy we’ll be up and doing,Helping some other struggling soul.

When we reach life’s golden summit,A new work awaits to be begun;So we must keep moving onward,Till all the work of this life is done.

Before eighteen hundred and sixty-five,Slavery was in its glory;Till Lincoln struck it a powerful blow,Which remains to tell the story.This story is a wonderful truth,The story of our race;How it has risen in fifty years,Amid the difficulties it had to face.We started upward fifty years ago,With the foundation already laid;It was laid for all by Jesus Christ,Who gives us strength and aid.What other race upon the globe,That has had such trials and fears;And has risen like the Negro race,In these fifty years.

Before eighteen hundred and sixty-five,Slavery was in its glory;Till Lincoln struck it a powerful blow,Which remains to tell the story.

This story is a wonderful truth,The story of our race;How it has risen in fifty years,Amid the difficulties it had to face.

We started upward fifty years ago,With the foundation already laid;It was laid for all by Jesus Christ,Who gives us strength and aid.

What other race upon the globe,That has had such trials and fears;And has risen like the Negro race,In these fifty years.

O thou who set the bondsman free,’Twas Jehovah’s hand that was leading thee;Thou wast a man who loved the right,A jewel thou wast in the Master’s sight.All men to-day adore thy name,For justly breaking slavery’s chain;Bright are the memories of thy life,Thou stood for the bondsman amid the strife.Thy life was taken for an honorable deed,The slave from his master’s whip is freed;Thy name is written on earth’s honor roll,And forever the story shall be told.Of thee and what thou did for man,Thus making this a greater land;No more for slaves to sadly pine,But a land of freedom and sunshine.Upon the heart of the Negro race,Thy name can never be effaced;We’ll teach our children to love thy name,And upon our freedom bring no shame.

O thou who set the bondsman free,’Twas Jehovah’s hand that was leading thee;Thou wast a man who loved the right,A jewel thou wast in the Master’s sight.

All men to-day adore thy name,For justly breaking slavery’s chain;Bright are the memories of thy life,Thou stood for the bondsman amid the strife.

Thy life was taken for an honorable deed,The slave from his master’s whip is freed;Thy name is written on earth’s honor roll,And forever the story shall be told.

Of thee and what thou did for man,Thus making this a greater land;No more for slaves to sadly pine,But a land of freedom and sunshine.

Upon the heart of the Negro race,Thy name can never be effaced;We’ll teach our children to love thy name,And upon our freedom bring no shame.

I sat on the bank of a river,Watching the setting sun;Listening to the songs of merry birds,Thinking of a day’s work done.Slowly the sun was hiding,Far in the golden West;The birds will soon cease their singing,And go to their little nests.Ah, nature so lovely at twilight,The flowers receiving the dew;The katydids among the leaves are calling,The songs of the birds ever new.A few little stars are now peeping,Soon they will be twinkling so bright;And shooting across the sky of blue,Giving a little light.In a while the moon will be rising,In its beauty it will brightly beam;Then lovers will start their spooning,And time will pass like a dream.O God the Father of nature,The Creator of beast and man;Help us to love each other,And lend a helping hand.O help us to be more thankful,For the blessings we receive each day;To love and serve Thee with patience,And not to forget to pray.

I sat on the bank of a river,Watching the setting sun;Listening to the songs of merry birds,Thinking of a day’s work done.

Slowly the sun was hiding,Far in the golden West;The birds will soon cease their singing,And go to their little nests.

Ah, nature so lovely at twilight,The flowers receiving the dew;The katydids among the leaves are calling,The songs of the birds ever new.

A few little stars are now peeping,Soon they will be twinkling so bright;And shooting across the sky of blue,Giving a little light.

In a while the moon will be rising,In its beauty it will brightly beam;Then lovers will start their spooning,And time will pass like a dream.

O God the Father of nature,The Creator of beast and man;Help us to love each other,And lend a helping hand.

O help us to be more thankful,For the blessings we receive each day;To love and serve Thee with patience,And not to forget to pray.

Battle for the right instead of the wrong,Listen to the message in sermon and song;All sinful things bravely set them awhirl,Then live only for Christ in this present world.Humble thyself with a Christian’s cross,Consider worldly things as things to be lost;Then Christ will exalt you and call you His own,And at last will receive you in the heavenly home.Stand steadfastly on the rock each day,Temptations will assail you in many a way;But Jesus the Savior is able to keep,Your feet on the mountain no matter how steep.If we stand on His promise there is no way to fall,He stands near His children and hears every call;At last when death finds you obeying His will,The same Jesus that led you will lead you still.

Battle for the right instead of the wrong,Listen to the message in sermon and song;All sinful things bravely set them awhirl,Then live only for Christ in this present world.

Humble thyself with a Christian’s cross,Consider worldly things as things to be lost;Then Christ will exalt you and call you His own,And at last will receive you in the heavenly home.

Stand steadfastly on the rock each day,Temptations will assail you in many a way;But Jesus the Savior is able to keep,Your feet on the mountain no matter how steep.

If we stand on His promise there is no way to fall,He stands near His children and hears every call;At last when death finds you obeying His will,The same Jesus that led you will lead you still.

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