Henry Clay Work, 1864
Nicodemus the slave, was of African birth|
And was bought for a bag full of gold;
He was reckoned to be of the salt of the earth,
But he died years ago very old.
'Twas his last sad request, so we laid him to rest
In the trunk of an old hollow tree;
"Wake me up" was his charge "at the first break of day,
Wake me up for the great Jubilee."
The "good time coming" is almost here,
It was long, long, long on the way.
Now run and tell Elijah to hurry up pomp,
And to meet us at the gum tree down in the swamp,
To wake Nicodemus today.
2. He was known as a prophet, at least was as wise,
3. Nicodemus was never the sport of the lash,|
Though the bullet has oft crossed his path;
There were none of his masters so brave or so rash
As to face such a man in his wrath.
Yet his great heart of kindness was filled to the brim,
He obeyed who was born to command;
But he longed for the morning which then was so dim,
For the morning which now is at hand.
4. Twas a long weary night, we were almost in fear
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