Romish Lady

Cat. #0965 (MFH #560) - As sung by Almeda Riddle, Greers Ferry, Arkansas on February 10, 1970

There was a Romish lady
Brought up in poperey
An' her Mother always h'd taught 'er
Th Priest she must obey
Will you pardon me, my Mother
O, I umbly beg thee now
For unto these false idols
I can no longer bow

Assisted by her hand maid
A Bible she concealed
An' there she gained instruction
Till God, His love revealed
No more she prostrates herself
To pictures decked with gold
But soon she was betrayed, an'
Her Bible from her stoled

I bow to my dear Jesus
An' I worship God unseen
I will live by faith forever
Th words of men are vain
I cannot worship angles
Nor pictures made by man
Dear Mother, use your pleasure
But pardon, if you can

With grief an' great vexation
Th Mother straight did go
An' informed th Romish clergy
Th cause of all her woe
Th Priests were soon assembled
An' for th maid did call
They put her in a dungeon
To fright her soul with all

The more they strove to fight her
The more she did endure
Althouh her age was tender
Her faith in God was sure
The chains of gold so costly
They from this lady took
And she with all her spirits
Th pride of life forsook

Before th Pope, they brought her
In hopes of her return
And there, they did condemn her
In horrid flames to burn
Before th place of torment
They brought her speedily
With lifted hands t'wards Heaven
She there agreed to die

There being any ladies
Assembled at that place
She raised her eyes toward Heaven
An' begged sustaining grace,
Weep not for me fair ladies
Shed not a tear for me
F'r whils't this poor body's burning
My soul, my God will seek

Yourself, you need to pity
In Zions deep decay
O, ladies, turn to Jesus
No longer make delay
Then came her aging Mother
Her Daughter to behold
And in her hand she brought 'er
Her idols decked with gold

O, take from me those pictures
Remove them from my sight
O, give me back my Bible
In it I take delight
Alas, my aged Mother
Why on my ruyin' been
T'was you, that did betray me
And I am in no sin

Tormentors use your pleasure
Now, do what you think best
I hope by blessed Jesus
Will take my soul to rest
Soon as those words were spoken
Up stepped th man of death
To kindle up th fire
An' stop her mortal breath

Instead o' her goldn' braclet
With chains they bound her fast
She cried, O, God give pity
For I must die at last
But, with Jesus and His angels
I shall forever dwell
God, pard'n th Priest and peole
And so I bid farewell