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Church Building

Uncle Jacob often told us,
Since freedom blessed our race
We ought all to come together
And build a meeting place.

So we pinched, and scraped, and spared,
A little here and there:
Though our wages was but scanty,
The church did get a share.

And, when the house was finished,
Uncle Jacob came to pray;
He was looking mighty feeble,
And his head was awful gray.

But his voice rang like a trumpet;
His eyes looked bright and young;
And it seemed a mighty power
Was resting on his tongue.

And he gave us all his blessing -
'Twas parting words he said,
For soon we got the message
The dear old man was dead.

But I believe he's in the kingdom,
For when we shook his hand
He said, 'Children, you must meet me
Right in the promised land;

'For when I done a moiling
And toiling here below,
Through the gate into the city
Straightway I hope to go.'

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Submitted on May 13, 2011

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Frances Ellen Watkins Harper

Frances Ellen Watkins Harper born to free parents in Baltimore Maryland was an African American abolitionist and poet more…

All Frances Ellen Watkins Harper poems | Frances Ellen Watkins Harper Books

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    "Church Building" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2021. Web. 18 Sep. 2021. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/13705/church-building>.

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