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.
[DAYS OF YOUTH]
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.