All My Trials Harry Belafonte

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Hush little baby, don't you cry
You know your mother was born to die
All my trials, Lord, soon be over
Too late my brothers, too late

But never mind
All my trials, Lord soon be over
The river of Jordan is chilly and cold
It chills the body but it warms the soul

All my trials, Lord soon be over
I've got a little book with pages three
And every page spells liberty
All my trials Lord, soon be over

Too late my brothers, too late
But never mind
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
There grows a tree in Paradise

The Christians call it the tree of life
All my trials Lord, soon be over
Too late my brothers, too late
But never mind
All my trials, Lord soon be over