UNCLE REMUS’ REVIVAL HYMN.
O, whar’ shall we go when de great day comes,
Wid de blowin’ ob de trumpets an’ de bangin’ ob de drums?
How many po’ sinners ’ll be cotched out late,
An’ fin’ no latch ter de golden gate?
No use fer ter wait twel ter morrer,
De sun musn’t set on yo’ sorrer;
Sin’s ez sharp ez a bamboo brier—
O Lord, fetch de mo’ners up higher!
When de nations ob de earth are standin’ all aroun’
Who’s a gwine ter be chosen fer ter war de glory crown?
Who’s a gwine fer ter stan’, stiff-kneed an’ bol’,
An’ answer ter deir name at de callin’ ob de roll?
You’d better come now ef you’s comin’,
Ole Satan’s a loose an’ a bummin’,
De wheels ob destruction is a hummin’—
O, come along, sinner, ef you’s commin’.
De song ob salvation is a mighty sweet song,
An’ de Paradise wind blow fur an’ blow strong,
An’ Aberham’s buzzum is safe an’ its wide,
An’ dat’s de place whar de sinners orter hide.
No use ter be stoppin’ an’ a lookin’,
Ef yo’ fool wid Satan you’ll get took in;
You’ll hang on de edge an’ get shook in,
Ef yo’ keep on a stoppin’ an’ a lookin’.
Jes now is de time, an’ dis yer is de place,
Let de salvation sun shine squar’ in yo’ face;
Fight de battles ob de Lord, fight soon an’ fight late,
An’ you’ll always fin’ a latch ter de golden gate.
No use fer ter wait twel ter morrer,
De sun musn’t set on yo’ sorrer;
Sin’s ez sharp ez a bamboo brier—
Ax de Lord fer ter fetch yo’ up higher.—Exchange.