An’ hard my han’s, an’ bent my back,
An’ mos’ly shadows on de way
Hab followed dis yere form ob clay?
What ef, despised by brudder man,
I jes works on de bes’ I can,
An’ toilin’ airly, toilin’ late,
For arthly joys I’s long to wait?
I knows some time dis face ob min’
As white as Jesus’ robe will shine,
For He, oh, He’s my Mahstah!