| It was early Sunday evening
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| Just before the death of day
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| All the family friends were grievin'
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| Rev. Jones just passed away
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| Sister Jones had seen it comin'
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| She was familiar with the signs
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| Late one night I heard her humming
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| While strollin' through the Georgia pines
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| She said «Lord if you take him away, I don’t want to live!»
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| It was early Sunday morning
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| Just before the birth of day
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| I can hear the rooster crowing
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| Sister Jones knelt down and prayed:
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| «Lord, he’s slippin' through my fingers
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| Is death the master of us all?
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| Lord, I’m humble here before you
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| Just grant this life and don’t let him fall.»
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| She said «Lord if you take him away
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| I don’t want to live another day.»
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| Later on that Sunday evening
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| Just before the midnight dawn
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| Sister Jones was heavy breathin'
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| I still hear her mournin' song
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| Life was cryin' from her body
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| Like water from a dryin' well
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| Well I heard her whisper «Thank you, Jesus»
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| Just before the midnight bell
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| Sister Jones was taken away, she didn’t live
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| Sister Jones was taken away, she did not live another day
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| Sister Jones was taken away, she didn’t live
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| Sister Jones was taken away, she didn’t live another day |