Africa? A Book One Thumbs Listlessly, Till

Not For Myself I Make This Prayer, But For This Race Of Mine That Stretches Forth From Shadowed Places Dark Hands For Bread And Wine.

Africa? A Book One Thumbs Listlessly, Till Slumber Comes.

All Day Long And All Night Through, One Thing Only Must I Do: Quench My Pride And Cool My Blood, Lest I Perish In The Flood.

[w]e Have Always Resented The Natural Inclination Of Most White People To Demand Spirituals The Moment It Is Known That A Negro Is About To Sing. So Often The Request Has Seemed To Savor Of The Feeling That We Could Do This And This Alone.

Lord, Forgive Me If My Need Sometimes Shapes A Human Creed.