We shall see our moders,
We shall see our chil'en,
Dead an' gone before us,
In de Promised Land.
"Don't you cry, poor sinner,
Don't you cry, poor sinner,
We'se all a-goin
To de Promised Land."
"It makes me feel better to sing them words, Mis' Kenyon," said Nancy; "for it's all true. De Lord will care for us in de Promised Land."