The Union and journal. [volume] (Biddeford, Me.) 1858-1882, 1870-10-14
Nobody seem to know where the missing
lamb could be.
And whar Is Selma, and Jacob Mills,
and Br,,dtier Sam Littlo2.I 4.a1 ...

Nobody seem to know where the missing
lamb could be.
And whar Is Selma, and Jacob Mills,
and Bruddcr Sam Littls9' z = ..
A voice from the crowd cried out,
They's comm; I seed 'em hitching up
old Ball TO dc cart rs coined by
The sharp tones OF 'Brudder Potter,
now that he had finished business, changed
into something between . nasal twang
and quaver.
We will sing to de Lord, brethren and
sistern, n hymn of praise, that he has
brought us togeddsr dis Sabba-day.' Then
with u return to the sharp noto.-"Y on.
Sam Runkle, II you rises your voice so
screechy as you did last night, begs you
To walk out oh dis here congregation. q
.Brudder Potter cried female voice
from the crowd. My Sans got dc quinchy
(quincy) Is how he screcches So
w ell he answered. turning fierce eyes
to the corner whence the voice issued, is
de quinchy a fit thing to be offered up to
de Lord. I axes you. Let him keep dc
quinchy thing to hisself till he can sing
clar.'
So the HYMN began. It was "The Good
Old Ship OF Zion" and sung with nerve
and passion which shook every plank AMI
raftcr OF the loosely built barn. Some Of
the voices were magnificent, volume OF
harmony pouring out into the soft spring
air, and rising far above the restless
rhythm Of the forest trees.
A prayer followed. with general wants OF
the soul and special wants of tho flesh
mixed up in sore confusion. II was evi-
dent that "Brudder Potter" had n strong
practical side to his character. and lost no
opportunity Of bringing divine authority
.Ef IL seems thy will. he added to his
prayer. oh. Lord. let those oh us who
shuck of this mortal flesh afore Autumn
go to de Holy City from wavin corn fields
and fust rate cane craps. Those who
stay behind mournin' will say. he crapped
his best and worked his earthly fields SO
well dat de Lord will say-Well done
good and faithful servant But tho lazy
OF this flock who can't hoe row widout
sighin' and groanin', oh. Lord, open their
eyes and let EN- see dat derc's am no loaf
ers in Heaven
Tho text of tho sermon was the favorite
one amongst the freedmen. Of the feast
where the guests were gathered from high
ways and byways To sit down at the
Lords table.
The discourse was not without a GER
tain rude eloquence, and vigor and
warmth which would have its effect, IL
translated into certain chilly pulpits we
wot of. There was OF course much OF
the ludicrous. rs there always must be
when the orator is ignorant and imagina-
tive. His Interpretation of one portion
Of the parable was novel 10 us.
Yes hs cried ives gathered up. vile
and needy rs we are into the fold. Black
men and women from dirty cabins, rag
gedy and tattery, Scared wild do lash and
full Of Aeas, de Lord has sot down at the
highest table. De white men hadn't no
weddin' garment, and dey was given to
de tornientors in de outer darkness. Fore
we was freed dat Parable wasn't rightly
read. Now we know We il de guests,
and our masters de cast outs. My bred.
den, don't be greedy at de Lords table,
but have your quality manners, and ef
you kin Glib crumbs To de poor white
man. do Il. We is Mt the top of the trees
and he can't coon it, for the bark is rubbed
of atween u.s.
What If de tree Is holler.' cried an in
quisitive youth; and can't he git heaps
and heaps of ladders?'
Perhaps your head Is holler,' cried the
irate preacher; and ef we own de land.
whar's do timber comm from to make
do ladder; Jest hold your tongue. and
don't glib me none Of your Sass; say
were trsvlin' ahead. tanks 70 praise;
you'd better be packin' and follerin' on.'
The congregation taking up the word.
shouted in universal accord their favorite
hymn Of latter years:
''we's he nearer 10 the Lord
Den do white folks, and dey know II,
Sec de glory gate onbarred
Walk In darkies past do guard,
Bet yer dollar lie won't close II.
Walk In dskies. troo de gate,
iIark dc culletci angels holler,
Go way white f6lks, yoase too late,
ws's do winning eolor, wait
Till do tumPet blows 10 foller
IIalleloojah, tanks To praise.
Long enud we've horne our crosses,
Now we's de soOperiOr rsee,
And uid GorrHmighty's grace ...
we's gOln' 10 Hsbben afore do bosses"
Hymn after hymn followed; the excite
ment waxed fercer and hotter. Each
man seemed praying or exhorting on his
own hook, and "Bruddcr Potter" having
wrought them up tn the desired pitch,
quietly folded his hands and looked benign
and complacent. Suddenly there was
loud shout and all the other noises ceased.
A woman had thrown herself Hat on the
ground and after humping her head two
or three times on the floor. jerkcd herself
tn her Feet and threw her arms aloft with
loud yell Il see! see! glib me room!
gib me room for dc glory. Halleloojah!
Moses and 'Lijah is wild me. and hold
dcre garments see! seer
What do you see. sister Amy solemnly
asked old Aunt Why. the irrepressible,
who had clbowed her way To the woman.
oh de satin shoes on Hebben's floor, on
my mudder's feet. oh de shiny faced an
gels and de glory. Oh my nudder! Oh
my bruddcr! Oh dc glory!" And thcn.