Lord, lift our race and set our feet
Upon the solid rock,
And life and happiness complete,
Give to thy Negro flock.
This race so tried and trodden
Has called aloud to Thee.
And have we been forgotten?
O Lord, how can it be?
We know Thou art our father,
And hence we need Thy care
And as we draw together
We ask Thee to draw (You) near.
Our fathers’ blood is crying:
Who can’st revenge but Thou?
And still Thy people is dying,
Lord, rise up and save us now.
For we need thy protections
In this, our present, fight.
Against the world’s subjections
O, give us Negroes might.
Then when shall come the victory
O’er earth, and hellish wrongs,
Will cease this earthly worry,
We, too, shall join the throngs.
Prof. O. M. Skinner
620 Lenox Avenue, New York
