Oct 302013
 
Long the walk to my stopping place,
Birmingham jail and a state of grace;
On a windy bridge we bared our faces--
Arms linked tight
To procure the right.
"My feets is tired, but my soul is rested."

John Brown's body like a relic slept,
Which on the battlefield stood sore-tested;
What light shone down from unearthly sources?
Nat Turner's neck
Justice annexed.
"My feets is tired, but my soul is rested."

Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego first
Walked the fires Nebuchadnezzar burst;
That disobedience might hatch from a holy nest,
Those shadows strolled
Into furnace-gold.
"My feets is tired, but my soul is rested."

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