They sang in solemn tunes,

Their voices sweet and tender;

'Swing low, sweet chariot,

Coming for to carry me home.'

They had come a long way to get to that day;

Prejudice shook their right hand,

While Injustice shook their left.

Their faces were firm and set from harsh realities

Of their everyday life;

And they lifted up their voices and sung.

There, the meeting hall carried their last note away,

To the highest part of the building forever to stay;

And as that last note dissipated, borders dissipated;

Borders created by color and pride,

Borders created by ignorance and travesty.

These were the first Fisk Jubilee Singers;

and their song still remains.

A strong song it is,

A song of hope, a song of perseverance,

A song of entreaty, a song of triumph.

They sang in solemn tunes,

Their voices sweet and tender;

'Swing low, sweet chariot,

Coming for to carry me home.'