  Tuskegee is finished, thy work is done, And God hath called thee home to rest; Thy name shall live thru ages to come, Thy soul in peace among the blessed. Thy perpetuated monument shall stand, For millions to gaze thereon; To praise thee for thy noble work, And forget thee not tho thou art gone. Hard was thy task, thou gavest not up, Until it was complete; Tuskegee is a noble trophy, To lay at thy Savior’s feet. Some hissed at thee, some honored thee, While laboring for thy fellow-man; But nevertheless thou finished thy course, And thy footprints are left in the sand. We honor thee for thy noble work, That helped a trodden race; We doubt that there will ever be, Another to take thy place. We shall behold thee no more, for thou art gone, Thy body back to dust, from whence it came; Thy soul hath returned to the God that gaveth, Yet we love and honor thy name. The artist shall paint thy picture, For coming generations to behold; And write the name Booker T. Washington, In letters of pure gold. |
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