ords.
XX.
the Baby gone home. De little baby gone home, De little baby gone home, De little baby gone along, For to climb up Jacob's ladder.
And I wish I'd been dar, I wish I'd been dar, I wish I'd been dar, my Lord, For to climb up Jacob's ladder.
Still simpler is this, which is yet quite sweet and touching.
XXI.
Jesus with us. He have been wid us, Jesus, He still wid us, Jesus, He will be wid us, Jesus, Be wid us to the end.
The next seemed to be a favorite about Christmas time, when meditations on de rollin‘ year were frequent among them.
XXII.
Lord, remember me. O do, Lord, remember me!
O do, Lord, remember me!
O, do remember me, until de year roll round!
Do, Lord, remember me!
If you want to die like Jesus died, Lay in de grave, You would fold your arms and close your eyes And die wid a fiee good will.
For Death is a simple ting, And he go from door to door, And he knock down some, and he cripple up some, And he leave some here to pray.
O d
ss over.
We'll cross de mighty river, My army cross over; We'll cross de-river Jordan, My army cross over; We'll cross de danger water, My army cross over; We'll croes the first.
This, too, was a capital boat-song.
X. One more river. O, Jordan bank was a great old bank, Dere ain't but one more river to cross.
We have some valiant soldier here, Dere ain't, &c. O, Jordan stream will never run dry, Dere ain't, &c. Dere's a hill on my leff, and he catch on my right, Dere ain't but one moither reel nor totter, totter, totter, And she's, &c. She's a-sailin‘ away cold Jordan, Jordan, Jordan, And she's, &c. King Jesus is de captain, captain, captain, AndJordan, Jordan, And she's, &c. King Jesus is de captain, captain, captain, And she's makin‘ for de Promise Land.
XXX.
the Ship of Zion. (Third version.) De Gospel ship is sailin‘, Hosann-sann.
O, Jesus is de captain, Hosann — sann.
DJordan, And she's, &c. King Jesus is de captain, captain, captain, And she's makin‘ for de Promise Land.
XXX.
the Ship of Zion. (Third version.) De Gospel ship is sailin‘, Hosann-sann.
O, Jesus is de captain, Hosann — sann.
De angels are de sailors, Hosann — sann.
O, is your bundle ready?
Hosann — sann.
O, have you got your ticket?
Hosann — sann.
This abbreviated chor
right, go to God, for sure.
In others, more of spiritual conflict is implied, as in this next.
XI.
O the dying Lamb! I wants to go where Moses trod, O de dying Lamb!
For Moses gone to de promised land, O de dying Lamb!
To drink from sprLamb!
For Moses gone to de promised land, O de dying Lamb!
To drink from springs dat never run dry, O, &c. Cry O my Lord!
O, &c. Before I'll stay in hell one day, O, &c. I'm in hopes to pray my sins away, O, &c. Cry O my Lord!
O. &c. Brudder Moses promised for be dar too, O, &c. To drink from streams dat never run dry, O Lamb!
To drink from springs dat never run dry, O, &c. Cry O my Lord!
O, &c. Before I'll stay in hell one day, O, &c. I'm in hopes to pray my sins away, O, &c. Cry O my Lord!
O. &c. Brudder Moses promised for be dar too, O, &c. To drink from streams dat never run dry, O de dying Lamb!
In the next, the conflict is at its height, and the lurid imagery of the Apocalypse is brought to bear.
This book, with the books of Moses, constituted their Bible; all that lay between, even the narratives of the life of Jesus, tLamb!
In the next, the conflict is at its height, and the lurid imagery of the Apocalypse is brought to bear.
This book, with the books of Moses, constituted their Bible; all that lay between, even the narratives of the life of Jesus, they hardly cared to read or to hear.
XII.
down in the Valley. We'll run and never tire, We'll run and never tire, We'll run and never tire, Jesus set poor sinners free.
Way down in de valley, Who will rise and go with me?
You've heern talk
neric name.
One of these consisted simply in the endless repetition — after the manner of certain college songsof the mysterious line,--
Rain fall and wet Becky Lawton. But who Becky Lawton was, and why she should or should not be wet, and whether the dryness was a reward or a penalty, none could say. I got the impression thaBecky Lawton was, and why she should or should not be wet, and whether the dryness was a reward or a penalty, none could say. I got the impression that, in either case, the event was posthumous, and that there was some tradition of grass not growing over the grave of a sinner; but even this was vague, and all else vaguer.
The other song I heard but once, on a morning when a squad of men came in from picket duty, and chanted it in the most rousing way. It had been a stormy aestion, then just beginning, and to the more mercenary aims they attributed to the white soldiers.
But Hangman Johnny remained always a myth as inscrutable as Becky Lawton.
As they learned all their songs by ear, they often strayed into wholly new versions, which sometimes became popular, and entirely banished the others.
Thi
