When his mother could no longer hide him she constructed for him an ark of bulrushes, and placed the child inside, and laid it in the flags by the riverbank. And it wasn’t a long time before the queen came along. And in that way, he was saved.
The many wiles of Moses.
Musically: going fishing. He too had a great day. Caught a whopper. Look at the little general. Free to be a child. Sing God Will Take Care Of You.
Moses, as we remember, was a good boy to begin with, who romping and jumping had run of the palace. In this cold old world he had it made.
What’s overdressed? Sing Like a Motherless Child.
And around the courtyard he ran he ran and this was when I could only watch him run. He had chewing gum, the mumps, and odd sort of things that other kids didn’t. A pony, a sword, grand aspirations, and a voice to match. Flew his wild geese and soldiered a bit. And I’m not supposed to have a canary? Sports was a common thing. Shine. Hear him, and I’m proud of him. But I’m not his sole admirer. Our beneficiaries are in a different league, as he plays in their house as if he were a king. Here was when I was supposed to leave. And they expected me to quietly pass away.
Someone to saddle up to, but I also think he mustn’t forget his own story. He had had a humbler beginning.
His feet are those of a huge man. Hastily into his shoes, he had to flee.
Musically, for a Newsreel or a montage of the civil strife in the southern United States during the sixties: rituals of blood. Sing O God, our help in ages past….
Take your gauze off and see!
No, it doesn’t concern us, as a man is being lynched by a silent mob
And there they were too. It was dark. As most of the town slept the clan met, filled with nameless rage. By courtesy of an informer, listening in, as hard as we could, in a southern town, white avengers and their troubled follows, all twenty-five of them, all talking and angry and plotting. Hush Little Baby. More spirituals.
Never thought something like that could happen around here.
Two children play hopscotch. Einy, meiny, miney, mo, catch a nigger by his toes; if he hollers make him pay, fifty dollars every day.
Lord have mercy! Mercy me!
And their roasted bodies were chained to the back of an automobile and dragged through the streets, and the celebrants shouted jubilantly as they drove through our neighborhood.
Yet another black man hanging on a tree. One more woman raped. A black boy whipped and maimed. Shout wake the immortal strain! Sing My Lord Says He’s Gwineter Rain Down Fire.
And Moses saw an Egyptian hitting a Hebrew, one of his brethren. And Moses looked this way and that way, and when he saw no one he murdered the Egyptian, and hid the body in the sand.
To the honorable memory of disgrace.
There’s never been a Moses without a flaw. It’s the pith of the matter.
And Moses ran and became a stranger in a strange land.
Musically: groaning. O, weep; throw in a darker tune of sorrows. Spasms of pain and agony. But they are not alone. Somebody perhaps has a hint that God is nearby. God hears. At last, through the gloom, there is a ray. Then reckless dancing of all sorts. Anno Domini nostri sancti Jesu Christi. It’s the road to freedom. How melodious are the bells and the song of songbirds! More spirituals. Egypt has become a cruel taskmaster; the people of the children of Israel are afflicted. The queen provided the props.
Randy Ford
