Face down he fell upon the field
With cotton in his hand;
Clad only in a homespun shirt
The slave, who is a man.
The overseer let out a shout
‘Carry him to his shack;
But don’t forget you’ve work to do
There’d better be no slack!’
As shadows neared, his thoughts returned
To a land beyond the sea;
Where lions roar young zebras romp
On plains where all are free.
Born to enjoy his land of birth
Without constraint or fear;
Allowed to choose a way of life
Far from the auctioneer.
No shackles bound to hands and feet
No whips to shred one’s back;
No dogs sent out to chase him down
No Massa to keep track.
Evening drums pound out a beat
Familiar to his ear;
‘Come home it’s time for you to eat
Your mother’s tasty deer.’
Awake, he hears his Massa say
‘Get up there’s nothing wrong;
I won’t abide you shirking work
You’ve been in bed too long.’
His wooly head begins to nod
O Lord please set me free;
I long to fly without restraints
Among the heavenlies.
Dim eyes behold an outstretched hand
God’s voice of freedom calls;
‘Come follow me I’ll give you rest
Beyond these earthly walls.’
He rises from his deathbed
His spirit finds release;
Forever free his soul will live
With Christ, eternal peace.
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