Treacherous trod has been the rough
rugged road;
The way over which we have come
has not been kind.
Our hopes and spirits tested, and so has been
every mind;
But we’ve never buckled under the burden
of the load.
Over the weary way—with blood and tears—
we strode;
Spirited by audacious hope and a faith true
and divine.
Surviving trials, tribulations and uncertainties
of time,
in this strange land, we’ve managed to find places
of abode.
Now our children are being profiled, hunted down
and killed;
Their fathers fighting wars abroad for justice
and liberty.
Mothers sit in rocking chairs humming hymns of peace
be stilled;
And that God would soon put a stop to the killing
bigotry.
Until that glorious time has come and sets
us all free,
It’s up to us to stop the unjust slaughtering
of you and me.