All My Trials
CERYS ELIZABETH PHILLIPS MATTHEWS
Hush little baby don't you cry
You know your mama was born to die
All my trials lord will soon be over
The river of Jordan runs muddy and cold
You know it chills the body but not the soul
All my trials lord soon be over
Too late, too late my brother
But never mind, all my trials lord, soon be over
I've a little book with pages three
And every page spells liberty
All my trials lord soon be over
There grows a tree in paradise
And the pilgrims call it the tree of life
All my trials lord, soon be over
If living were a thing that money could buy
You know the rich would live and the poor would die
All my trials lord, soon be over
Too late, too late my brother
But never mind, all my trials lord, soon be over