The Miners' Fate
At just three o'clock in the morning
As the whistles gave the death sound,
One hundred brave men that were mining
Were buried alive in the ground.
O, what can we do now to save them-
To rescue their bodies at least?
O, help us, Great Father, we pray thee,
One poor soul to rescue at least.
cho; O, we ne'er cnn forget that sad morning,
When the whistles all loudly blew;
And the people all ran to their rescue
To see what there they could do.
One woman stood weeping and wailing,
Her cries were heard far around;
They told her they could not be rescued
She fainted and fell to the ground.
O, Father of love and of mercy,
Protect us forever from harm,
And help us to trust thee forever,
And forever to lean on thy arm.
Soon widows and orphans were screaming
Their voices were heard far around, ,
On account of the cave-in in the morning,
Just before the break of dawn.
Great Father in Heav'n, we pray thee,
Assist us this Sabbath day
And help us to rescue our husbands
Who so lately from us passed away.
Far down in the coal mines at Pittston,
Five hundred feet underground,
There lie our sons and companions
Who were buried aiive in the ground.
But now they rest from their labors,
Their toils and trials are past,
But we hope and trust in the future
To meet them in heav'n at last.
Some sisters were left without brothers,
And mothers without a son,
And help us to say, O Father,
Not my will, but thine, be done.
Far down, far down in the coal mines
Where fathers and brothers must stay,
Till Gabriel shall blow his trumpet
On the Resurrection Day.
From Minstrels of the Mine Patch, Korson