Spirituals


 




  From the heartland of our country, and often from the heart's blood of its people, have come some of the most inspirational of our songs, the Spirituals.  The composers are not known, for the music has simply been handed down from generation to generation, having been born out of the desperation and hopelessness of a life of slavery.  Often religion was the only sustaining force in a life of hard work, pain, and separation from loved ones, and these songs express this beautifully.
    Swing Low, Sweet Chariot has been traced to the tobacco plantations of the Carolinas.  The chariot was a heavy wooden sled-like vehicle used to transport tobacco from the fields to the drying barns.  The slave, perhaps, looked forward to the day when, instead of pulling the heavy thing on its endless rounds, he could ride on it to the glory of the promised land.
 
 


 

Swing Low, Sweet Chariot


 


                                    Chorus: Swing Low, Sweet Chariot,
                                                Comin' for to carry me home,
                                                Swing Low, Sweet Chariot,
                                                Comin' for to carry me home.
 


I looked over Jordan, and what did I see,
Comin' for to carry me home,
A band of angels comin' after me,
Comin for to carry me home (Chorus)

If you get there before I do,
Comin' for to carry me home,
Just tell my friends that I'm comin' too,
Comin for to carry me home. (Chorus)


 



    My Lord, What a Morning is melodic, simple and inspiringly beautiful.  It speaks of Judgment Day when all creation must face the throne of God.
 
 


 
 

My Lord, What a Morning


                                        Chorus:     My Lord, What a Morning,
                                                        My Lord, What a Morning,
                                                        My Lord, what a morning,
                                                        When the stars begin to fall
 


You'll hear the trumpet sound
To wake the nations underground,
Looking to my Lord's right hand,
When the stars begin to fall. (Chorus)

You'll hear the people cry,
To tell the nations in the sky,
Looking to my Lord's right hand,
When the stars begin to fall.  (Chorus)


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