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’m done a moiling
  And toiling here below,
Through the gate into the city
  Straightway I hope to go.”