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— James Weldon Johnson
writer, poet, novelist, songwriter, composer, diplomat, lawyer, politician, jurist
1871 – 1938
Lift every voice and singLet it resound loud as the rolling sea.
We have come over a way that with tears has been watered,We have come, treading our path through the blood of the slaughtered.
The colored people of this country know and understand the white people better than the white people know and understand them.
Every race and every nation should be judged by the best it has been able to produce, not by the worst.
The glory of the day was in her face,The beauty of the night was in her eyes.
It is from the blues that all that may be called American music derives its most distinctive characteristic.
How would you have us, as we are?Or gazing empty at despair?
O black and unknown bards of long ago,The power and beauty of the minstrels' lyre?
Whose starward eye“Nobody knows de trouble I see”?
You sang far better than you knew; the songsYou sang a race from wood and stone to Christ.
Father, Father Abraham,The children of thy Christ-like love.
I am a thing not new, I am as oldOf evil forces and the powers of wrong.
Eternities before the first-born day,A brooding mother over chaos lay.
The glory of the day was in her face,Of Morning blushing in the early skies.
And Satan smiled, stretched out his hand, and said,—"O War, of all the scourges of humanity, I crown you chief."
Some men enjoy the constant strifeI fear that I am lazy.
And God stepped out on space,I'll make me a world."
So God stepped over to the edge of the worldThe cooling waters came down.
And God smiled again,And curled itself around his shoulder.
With his head in his hands,Till he thought: I'll make me a man!
This Great God,Till He shaped it in His own image.
Find Sister Caroline...Go down, Death, and bring her to me.
Young man—Young man—Your arm’s too short to box with God.
Young man, young man, your arm's too short to box with God.
Labor is the fabled magician's wand, the philosophers stone, and the cap of good fortune.
