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EXPOSITION ODE.
Read at the opening of the Negro Building, Atlanta, Ga., October 21st, 1895.
To-day we come to show the world what God for us hath wrought—
Here, where but thirty years ago we were as chattel bought;
He, painting us a darker hue, with hair more deeply curled,
Has blessed us with both brain and brawn, the conquerors of the world.
Here, where but thirty years ago we were as chattel bought;
He, painting us a darker hue, with hair more deeply curled,
Has blessed us with both brain and brawn, the conquerors of the world.
With grateful hearts we thank the men who gave to us the chance
To show the world our progress made, our usefulness enhance.
Yet, 'twas our right, and not a man in justice could oppose,
For Negro hands made “Dixie” bloom and blossom as the rose.
To show the world our progress made, our usefulness enhance.
Yet, 'twas our right, and not a man in justice could oppose,
For Negro hands made “Dixie” bloom and blossom as the rose.
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We bring to-day just what we have, from school and shop and farm—
The products all of Negro brain, the fruit of his own arm.
Judged, not by heights that we have reached, but depths from whence we came,
There's not a Negro in the land need hang his head in shame.
The products all of Negro brain, the fruit of his own arm.
Judged, not by heights that we have reached, but depths from whence we came,
There's not a Negro in the land need hang his head in shame.
We'll show the North their millions spent have not been spent in vain;
We'll show the South skilled laborers, who do not strike for gain;
We've left for aye our rude estate, to shape our lives by rule,
And banished Reconstruction's dream—“forty acres and a mule.”
We'll show the South skilled laborers, who do not strike for gain;
We've left for aye our rude estate, to shape our lives by rule,
And banished Reconstruction's dream—“forty acres and a mule.”
Our children here will come and view with pride this great display,
And babes unborn will bless us for the page we write to-day;
We'll prove to all the Negro's worth, who here may wish to come,
To see what we black men have done to build up this our home.
And babes unborn will bless us for the page we write to-day;
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To see what we black men have done to build up this our home.
We have a place in “Dixie Land;” our labor built its roads;
We cleared its forests, tilled its fields, and bore the heaviest loads;
Our blood was shed in its defense, dispute it ye who will,
For Attuck fell at Boston; Peter Salem, Bunker Hill.
We cleared its forests, tilled its fields, and bore the heaviest loads;
Our blood was shed in its defense, dispute it ye who will,
For Attuck fell at Boston; Peter Salem, Bunker Hill.
And in those dark and bloody days, while fierce the battle rolled,
As North and South had gathered arms and called each other foes,
A soldier brave upon the field, a faithful slave at home,
He then disdained to think of shame to loved ones left alone.
As North and South had gathered arms and called each other foes,
A soldier brave upon the field, a faithful slave at home,
He then disdained to think of shame to loved ones left alone.
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But, as a faithful watch-dog stands and guards with jealous eye,
He cared for master's wife and child, and at the door would lie,
To shed his blood in their defense 'gainst traitors, thieves and knaves,
Although these masters went to fight to keep them helpless slaves.
He cared for master's wife and child, and at the door would lie,
To shed his blood in their defense 'gainst traitors, thieves and knaves,
Although these masters went to fight to keep them helpless slaves.
What progress made? The answer's here for all who care to know.
We are not backward tending; but the best that we can show
Are men, who've made us what we are, the leaders in the van,
Our preachers, teachers, scholars—all an honor to the land.
We are not backward tending; but the best that we can show
Are men, who've made us what we are, the leaders in the van,
Our preachers, teachers, scholars—all an honor to the land.
A Brown, the prince of financiers; a Mitchell bold and true,
A Fortune, Gains and Washington, all men who dare and do;
A Penn who gives us this display, and women good and fair,
We'll scale the heights by others reached, and place our banner there.
A Fortune, Gains and Washington, all men who dare and do;
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We'll scale the heights by others reached, and place our banner there.
What tho' we've laggards in the ranks—all races have the same—
We'll opposition overcome, and march to wealth and fame;
With solid front for God and right, no en'my need assail,
For “right is right as God is God,” and justice must prevail.
We'll opposition overcome, and march to wealth and fame;
With solid front for God and right, no en'my need assail,
For “right is right as God is God,” and justice must prevail.
But slav'ry's rude and galling yoke has left on us its stain;
Divisions, petty jealousies and hate oft spoil our aim;
And struggling 'neath the damning yoke, we rise and kiss the rod,
And with an agonizing cry stretch forth our hands to God.
Divisions, petty jealousies and hate oft spoil our aim;
And struggling 'neath the damning yoke, we rise and kiss the rod,
And with an agonizing cry stretch forth our hands to God.
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The South's our home; 'tis here our eyes beheld life's morning dawn,
And here at evening's close we'll rest, our toils and conflicts done.
No politicians should divide relationships divine,
No arm should sever friendships formed in “Days of Auld Lang Syne.”
And here at evening's close we'll rest, our toils and conflicts done.
No politicians should divide relationships divine,
No arm should sever friendships formed in “Days of Auld Lang Syne.”
Here tropic birds their matins sing, and sweet the streamlets flow,
And kindly nature gently smiles upon the vale below.
Shall we who made it what it is by sweat and pain and toil,
Be thought to be unworthy of a place upon its soil?
And kindly nature gently smiles upon the vale below.
Shall we who made it what it is by sweat and pain and toil,
Be thought to be unworthy of a place upon its soil?
Here scented zephyrs fan the cheek, and heavenly music swells,
And God's own matchless finger paints the lovely hills and dells;
Here scented fragrance fills the air, and bright the flowers smile—
Shall ev'ry scene delight the view, and only man be vile?
And God's own matchless finger paints the lovely hills and dells;
Here scented fragrance fills the air, and bright the flowers smile—
Shall ev'ry scene delight the view, and only man be vile?
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God is not dead, though justice sleeps, and right must conquer might.
The South's our common country, each must strive to do the right;
Too long we've looked outside ourselves to seek some guiding star;
We'll cease and “let our buckets down in places where we are.”
The South's our common country, each must strive to do the right;
Too long we've looked outside ourselves to seek some guiding star;
We'll cease and “let our buckets down in places where we are.”
With interests one and hopes the same, we'll look like hopeful youth,
To see the new sun dawning with its satellites of truth;
Disfranchisement, injustice and prejudices gone,
We'll both rejoice together at the coming of the dawn.
To see the new sun dawning with its satellites of truth;
Disfranchisement, injustice and prejudices gone,
We'll both rejoice together at the coming of the dawn.
Filled with these expectations now, our hope takes fancy's wing;
But not alone as poet, but as prophet may we sing:
This scene will help its dawning—God grant we view its birth!
For “Dixie Land” is still to us the fairest spot on earth.
But not alone as poet, but as prophet may we sing:
This scene will help its dawning—God grant we view its birth!
For “Dixie Land” is still to us the fairest spot on earth.
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