---

Sidney Lanier - The Power Of Prayer
Work rating: Low

You, Dinah!  Come and set me whar de ribber-roads does meet.
De Lord, HE made dese black-jack roots to twis` into a seat.
Umph, dar!  De Lord have mussy on dis blin` ole nigger`s feet.

It `pear to me dis mornin` I kin smell de fust o` June.
I `clar`, I b`lieve dat mockin`-bird could play de fiddle soon!
Dem yonder town-bells sounds like dey was ringin` in de moon.

Well, ef dis nigger IS been blind for fo`ty year or mo`,
Dese ears, DEY sees the world, like, th`u` de cracks dat`s in de do`.
For de Lord has built dis body wid de windows `hind and `fo`.

I know my front ones IS stopped up, and things is sort o` dim,
But den, th`u` DEM, temptation`s rain won`t leak in on ole Jim!
De back ones show me earth enough, aldo` dey`s mons`ous slim.

And as for Hebben, — bless de Lord, and praise His holy name —
DAT shines in all de co`ners of dis cabin jes` de same
As ef dat cabin hadn`t nar` a plank upon de frame!

Who CALL me?  Listen down de ribber, Dinah!  Don`t you hyar
Somebody holl`in` "Hoo, Jim, hoo?"  My Sarah died las` y`ar;
IS dat black angel done come back to call ole Jim f`om hyar?

My stars, dat cain`t be Sarah, shuh!  Jes` listen, Dinah, NOW!
What KIN be comin` up dat bend, a-makin` sich a row?
Fus` bellerin` like a pawin` bull, den squealin` like a sow?

De Lord `a` mussy sakes alive, jes` hear, — ker-woof, ker-woof —
De Debble`s comin` round dat bend, he`s comin` shuh enuff,
A-splashin` up de water wid his tail and wid his hoof!

I`se pow`ful skeered; but neversomeless I ain`t gwine run away:
I`m gwine to stand stiff-legged for de Lord dis blessed day.
YOU screech, and swish de water, Satan!  I`se a gwine to pray.

O hebbenly Marster, what thou willest, dat mus` be jes` so,
And ef Thou hast bespoke de word, some nigger`s bound to go.
Den, Lord, please take ole Jim, and lef young Dinah hyar below!

`Scuse Dinah, `scuse her, Marster; for she`s sich a little chile,
She hardly jes` begin to scramble up de homeyard stile,
But dis ole traveller`s feet been tired dis many a many a mile.

I`se wufless as de rotten pole of las` year`s fodder-stack.
De rheumatiz done bit my bones; you hear `em crack and crack?
I cain`st sit down `dout gruntin` like `twas breakin` o` my back.

What use de wheel, when hub and spokes is warped and split, and rotten?
What use dis dried-up cotton-stalk, when Life done picked my cotton?
I`se like a word dat somebody said, and den done been forgotten.

But, Dinah!  Shuh dat gal jes` like dis little hick`ry tree,
De sap`s jes` risin in her; she do grow owdaciouslee —
Lord, ef you`s clarin` de underbrush, don`t cut her down, cut me!

I would not proud persume — but I`ll boldly make reques`;
Sence Jacob had dat wrastlin`-match, I, too, gwine do my bes`;
When Jacob got all underholt, de Lord he answered Yes!

And what for waste de vittles, now, and th`ow away de bread,
Jes` for to strength dese idle hands to scratch dis ole bald head?
T`ink of de `conomy, Marster, ef dis ole Jim was dead!

Stop; — ef I don`t believe de Debble`s gone on up de stream!
Jes` now he squealed down dar; — hush; dat`s a mighty weakly scream!
Yas, sir, he`s gone, he`s gone; — he snort way off, like in a dream!

O glory hallelujah to de Lord dat reigns on high!
De Debble`s fai`ly skeered to def, he done gone flyin` by;
I know`d he couldn` stand dat pra`r, I felt my Marster nigh!

You, Dinah; ain`t you `shamed, now, dat you didn` trust to grace?
I heerd you thrashin` th`u` de bushes when he showed his face!
You fool, you think de Debble couldn`t beat YOU in a race?

I tell you, Dinah, jes` as shuh as you is standin` dar,
When folks starts prayin`, answer-angels drops down th`u` de a`r.
YAS, DINAH, WHAR `OULD YOU BE NOW, JES` `CEPTIN` FUR DAT PRA`R?
Source
The script ran 0.003 seconds.