Spirituals
F. Brazinski
Rocks and the firm roots of trees.
The rising shafts of mountains.
Something strong to put my hands on.
Sing, O Lord Jesus!
Song is a strong thing.
I heard my mother singing
When life hurt her:
Gonna ride in my chariot some day!
The branches rise
From the firm roots of trees.
The mountains rise
From the solid lap of earth.
The waves rise
From the dead weight of sea.
Sing, O black mother!
Song is a strong thing.