De lightnin’ flash, de bough sway low,
  My po’ sick hea’t is trimblin’ so,
    It hu’ts my very breas’. 
  But him dat give de lightnin’ powah
  Jes’ bids me in de tryin’ howah
    “Lay low in de wildaness.”

  O brothah, w’en de tempes’ beat,
  An’ w’en yo’ weary head an’ feet
    Can’t fin’ no place to res’,
  Jes’ ’membah dat de Mastah ’s nigh,
  An’ putty soon you ’ll hyeah de cry,
    “Lay low in de wildaness.”

  O sistah, w’en de rain come down,
  An’ all yo’ hopes is ’bout to drown,
    Don’t trus’ de Mastah less. 
  He smilin’ w’en you t’ink he frown,
  He ain’ gwine let yo’ soul sink down—­
    Lay low in de wildaness.

A SPIRITUAL

  De ’cession’s stahted on de gospel way,
    De Capting is a-drawin’ nigh: 
  Bettah stop a-foolin’ an’ a-try to pray;
    Lif’ up yo’ haid w’en de King go by!

  Oh, sinnah mou’nin’ in de dusty road,
    Hyeah ‘s de minute fu’ to dry yo’ eye: 
  Dey ‘s a moughty One a-comin’ fu’ to baih yo’ load;
    Lif’ up yo’ haid w’en de King go by!

  Oh, widder weepin’ by yo’ husban’s grave,
    Hit ‘s bettah fu’ to sing den sigh: 
  Hyeah come de Mastah wid de powah to save;
    Lif’ up yo’ haid w’en de King go by!

  Oh, orphans a-weepin’ lak de widder do,
    An’ I wish you ’d tell me why: 
  De Mastah is a mammy an’ a pappy too;
    Lif’ up yo’ haid w’en de King go by!

  Oh, Moses sot de sarpint in de wildahness
    W’en de chillun had commenced to die: 
  Some ‘efused to look, but hit cuohed de res’;
    Lif’ up yo’ haid w’en de King go by!

  Bow down, bow ’way down, Bow down,
  But lif’ up yo’ haid w’en de King go by!

THE MEMORY OF MARTHA

  Out in de night a sad bird moans,
    An’, oh, but hit ’s moughty lonely;
  Times I kin sing, but mos’ I groans,
    Fu’ oh, but hit ’s moughty lonely! 
  Is you sleepin’ well dis evenin’, Marfy, deah? 
  W’en I calls you fom de cabin, kin you hyeah? 
    ‘T ain’t de same ol’ place to me,
    Nuffin’ ’s lak hit used to be,
  W’en I knowed dat you was allus some’ers near.

  Down by de road de shadders grows,
    An’, oh, but hit’s moughty lonely;
  Seem lak de ve’y moonlight knows,
    An’, oh, but hit’s moughty lonely! 
  Does you know, I’s cryin’ fu’ you, oh, my wife? 
  Does you know dey ain’t no joy no mo’ in life? 
    An’ my only t’ought is dis,
    Dat I’s honin’ fu’ de bliss
  Fu’ to quit dis groun’ o’ worriment an’ strife.

  Dah on de baid my banjo lays,
    An’, oh, but hit’s moughty lonely;
  Can’t even sta’t a chune o’ praise,
    An’, oh, but hit’s moughty lonely! 
  Oh, hit’s moughty slow a-waitin’ hyeah below. 
  Is you watchin’ fu’ me, Marfy, at de do’? 
    Ef you is, in spite o’ sin,
    Dey’ll be sho’ to let me in,
  Wen dey sees yo’ face a-shinin’, den dey’ll know.