Hymn to Portia White by The Afro-Mtis Nation Lyrics
Portia, oh Portia, oh Portia White Voice like silver and skin like night You made each song a flaming dart
A meteor to blaze each heart
Born for glory, never forget
The day’s not done when sun has set
Behind you glimmers His-to-ry Before you glitters Des-ti-ny
Come out of Truro, Lil Zion
Where Love is pure con-tra-diction White-robed Baptists face white-sheet Klan Both preaching love for God and man
Stroll through The Marsh, hear water speak New Testament Hebrew and Greek
Raise the church roof, raise it up high Catch Caesar Jesus stride that sky!
Stand statue-proud in deep, cold snow Tell Nova Scotia, you must go
Sail to Cuba, fly to Brazil
Entrance the crowds, enchant and thrill
Take to New York, hear critics praise Your voice that sets stone hearts ablaze Conquer London, and quake the Queen
Beauty like yours, there’s never been
By and by, you lay down burdens Sweet Jesus heals all your hurtin’
You go home to our Lord, clear and free – African Baptist prophecy!
Oh Coloured gal, our very own Down-to-earth genius at God’s Throne You’re our glory, we, each freed slave –
The North Star is your lustrous grave
Portia, oh Portia, oh Portia White Voice like silver and skin... like... night
A meteor to blaze each heart
Born for glory, never forget
The day’s not done when sun has set
Behind you glimmers His-to-ry Before you glitters Des-ti-ny
Come out of Truro, Lil Zion
Where Love is pure con-tra-diction White-robed Baptists face white-sheet Klan Both preaching love for God and man
Stroll through The Marsh, hear water speak New Testament Hebrew and Greek
Raise the church roof, raise it up high Catch Caesar Jesus stride that sky!
Stand statue-proud in deep, cold snow Tell Nova Scotia, you must go
Sail to Cuba, fly to Brazil
Entrance the crowds, enchant and thrill
Take to New York, hear critics praise Your voice that sets stone hearts ablaze Conquer London, and quake the Queen
Beauty like yours, there’s never been
By and by, you lay down burdens Sweet Jesus heals all your hurtin’
You go home to our Lord, clear and free – African Baptist prophecy!
Oh Coloured gal, our very own Down-to-earth genius at God’s Throne You’re our glory, we, each freed slave –
The North Star is your lustrous grave
Portia, oh Portia, oh Portia White Voice like silver and skin... like... night