jacqueline amos

I Am Old Enough To Dye
2005-04-15 06:12:41 (UTC)

Judge Me At The Bar Not On Earth

Through all the sorrow of the hailing light, the torch,
tearful moments of Songs, O, yea, O, yea, I’se nothing
without the spiritual light, breathes of blood, of the
saviors cross, de hope, mama’s cry da night, my hope, da’
sing a death song, to the lynching of da’ fate, --a faith
in the ultimate justice of the psalms black man. The
minor cadences of despair, the triumph sings in unison,
lord come by hear, I stand tall as a man, change often to
triumph, de’s calm confidence, I the psalms of black men.
Sometimes it is faith in life, sometimes a faith in death,
sometimes assurance of boundless justice in some fair
world beyond.

De’ lord judge my fate, judge me not on de’ earth, judge
me at the bar, of da’ lord. But whichever it is, the
meaning is always clear, and that the backward races, is
submission of de’ slave masters torture, of to-day are
often, proven inefficiency and not worth the saving. The
assessor to death.

Judge me at the bar of the lord. De’ the backward races
of to-day; darkness, cried at the fountain of blood, , men
will judge men by their souls and not by their skins. Is
such a hope justified? Judge me at de’ bar da’ lord. De’
cries of my brudder’s who continue to search, lord da’
handicap mind, da worked the dignity of man. Nor has de’
gift of the Spirit been merely passive. given to this
nation in blood;
I walk through the churchyard, de’ spirit, cry out loud,
I’se not dead, the voices cry from the grave, I see the
blood of t he skies, I walk h moonlight, I de’ lay by the
soft rocked grave, I’se plead my case to the lord. I shall
lay my body down. Judge me at the bar not on earth.