And God sat back on his throne,And he commanded that tall, bright angel standing at his right hand:Call me Death!And that tall, bright angel cried in a voiceThat broke like a clap of thunder:Call Death!—Call Death!And the echo sounded down the streets of heavenTill it reached away back to that shadowy place,Where Death waits with his pale, white horses.
And Death heard the summons,And he leaped on his fastest horse,Pale as a sheet in the moonlight.Up the golden street Death galloped,And the hoofs of his horse struck fire from the gold,But they didn't make no sound.Up Death rode to the Great White Throne,And waited for God's command.
And God said: Go down, Death, go down,Go down to Savannah, Georgia,Down in Yamacraw,And find Sister Caroline.She's borne the burden and heat of the day,She's labored long in my vineyard,And she's tired—She's weary—Go down, Death, and bring her to me.
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