_Wasn't that a witness for my Lord? Wasn't that a witness for my Lord?_ Isaiah mounted on de wheel o'time, Spoke to God-er-mighty way down the line: Said, "O Lord, to me reveal, How can this vile race be healed?" God said: "Tell the sons of men, Unto them'll be born a king, Them that believe upon his Way, They shall rest in the latter day." _Isaiah was a witness for my Lord, Isaiah was a witness for my Lord._ There was a man amongst the Pharisees, Named Nicodemus and he didn't believe, He went to the Master in the night, And told him to take him out er human sight. "You are the Christ, I'm sure it's true, For none do de miracles dat you do, But how can a man, now old in sin, Turn back still and be born again?" Christ said, "Man, if you want to be wise, You'd better repent and be baptized; Believe on me, the Son of Man, Then you will be born'd again." _Wasn't that a witness for my Lord? Wasn't that a witness for my Lord?_ "After 'While" gives a slightly different form of verse, but with somewhat the same characteristics in other respects as those just given. There is little regularity in the metrical arrangement, but it makes a good song. The worl' is full of forms and changes, It's just now so confuse, You will find some danger In everything you use: But this is consolation to every blood washed child, God's goin' to change our station after while. _Afterwhile, afterwhile, God's goin' to change our station, afterwhile._ The devil tries to throw down Everything that's good, He'd fix a way to confine The righteous if he could, Thanks be to God almighty, he cannot be beguiled, Ole satan will be done fightin' afterwhile. Some men and women who help the world along, By constantly complaining of everything that's done, They want to be called Christians and all their badness hide, God's goin' to open the secret afterwhile. Preachers in their sermons stand up and tell the truth, They'll go about and murmur with slander and abuse; They want the whole arrangement to suit their selfish style, God's goin' to rain down fire afterwhile. In a general mixture of old song and new song, of old traits and new traits, the negro sings a beautiful song which he has called: "Whar' shall I be?" The usual imagery is seen. Moses lived til he got old, _Whar' shall I be?_ Buried in de mountain, so I'm told, _Whar' shall I be?_ _Whar' shall I be when de fust trumpet sounds? Whar' shall I be when it sounds so loud? When it sound so loud that it wake up the dead, Whar' shall I be when it sounds?_ Well God showed Noar de rainbow sign, Whar' shall I be? No more water but fire nex' time, Whar' shall I be? Mathew, Mark, Luke and John, Whar' shall I be? Tole me whar' my Saviour gone; Whar' shall I be?