James Weldon Johnson

Young man—Young man—Your arm’s too short to box with God.

Find Sister Caroline... And she's tired— She's weary— Go down, Death, and bring her to me.

This Great God, Like a mammy bending over her baby, Kneeled down in the dust Toiling over a lump of clay Till He shaped it in His own image.

With his head in his hands, God thought and thought, Till he thought: I'll make me a man!

And God smiled again, And the rainbow appeared, And curled itself around his shoulder.

So God stepped over to the edge of the world And He spat out the seven seas; He batted His eyes, and the lightnings flashed; He clapped His hands, and the thunders rolled; And the waters above the earth came down, The cooling waters came …

And God stepped out on space, And He looked around and said, "I'm lonely— I'll make me a world."

It is from the blues that all that may be called American music derives its most distinctive characteristic.

The glory of the day was in her face, The beauty of the night was in her eyes.

Every race and every nation should be judged by the best it has been able to produce, not by the worst.

The colored people of this country know and understand the white people better than the white people know and understand them.

We have come over a way that with tears has been watered, We have come, treading our path through the blood of the slaughtered.

Lift every voice and sing Till earth and heaven ring, Ring with the harmonies of Liberty. Let our rejoicing rise high as the listening skies; Let it resound loud as the rolling sea.