Sunday Morning Prophecy

An old Negro minister concludes his sermon in his loudest voice,having previously pointed out the sins of this world:

. . . and now
When the rumble of death
Rushes down the drain
Pipe of eternity,
And hell breaks out
Into a thousand smiles,
And the devil licks his chops
Preparing to feast on life,
And all the little devils
Get out their bibs
To devour the corrupt bones
Of this world—
Oh-ooo-oo-o!
Then my friends!
Oh, then Oh, then!
What will you do?

You will turn back
And look toward the mountains.
You will turn back
And grasp for a straw.
You will holler,
Lord-d-d-d-d-ah!
Save me, lord!
Save me!
And the Lord will say,
In the days of your greatness
I did not hear your voice!
The Lord will say,
In the days of your richness
I did not see your face!
The Lord will say,
No-oooo-ooo-oo-o!
I will not save you now!

And your soul
Will be lost!

Come into the church this morning,
Brothers and Sisters,
And be saved—
And give freely
In the collection basket
That I who am thy shepherd
Might live.

Amen!