Earnestly he besought the divine mercy in behalf of “de po’ sinnahs, a-rollin’ an’ a-tossin’ in de tempes’ of dere sins. Lawd,” he prayed, “come down dis evenin’ in Sperit’s powah to seek an’ to save-ah; let us heah de rumblin’ of yo’ cha’iot wheels-ah lak de thundah f’om Mount Sinai-ah; oh, Lawd-ah, convert mou’nahs an’ convict sinnahs-ah; show ’em dat dey mus’ die an’ cain’t lib an’ atter death to judg-a-ment; tu’n ’em aroun’ befo’ it is evahlastin’ an’ eternally too late.” Then warming more and more, and swaying his form back and forth, as he pounded the seat in emphasis, he began to wail out in a sort of indescribable monotone: “O Lawd, save de mou’nah!” “Save de mou’nah!” came the response from all over the church. “He’p ’em out of de miah an’ quicksan’s of dere sins!” “He’p, Lawd!” “And place deir feet upon de evahlastin’ an’ eternal rock-ah!” “Do, Lawd!” “O Lawd-ah, shake a dyin’ sinnah ovah hell an’ fo’bid his mighty fall-ah!” “O Lawd, shake ’em!” came from the congregation. By this time every one was worked up to a high state of excitement, and the prayer came to an end amid great commotion. Then a rich, mellow voice led out with: “Sabe de mou’nah jes’ now, Sabe de mou’nah jes’ now, Sabe de mou’nah jes’ now, Only trust Him jes’ now, Only trust Him jes’ now, He’p de sinnah jes’ now;” and so to indefinite length the mournful minor melody ran along like a sad brook flowing through autumn woods, trying to laugh and ripple through tears. Every now and then some mourner would spring half up, with a shriek, and then sink down again trembling and jerking spasmodically. “He’s a-doubtin’, he’s a-doubtin’!” the cry would fly around; “but I tell you he purt’ nigh had it that time.” Finally, the slender form of Anner ’Lizer began to sway backward and forward, like a sapling in the wind, and she began to mourn and weep aloud. “Praise de Lawd!” shouted Aunt Hannah, “de po’ soul’s gittin’ de evidence: keep on, honey, de Lawd ain’t fa’ off.” The sudden change attracted considerable attention, and in a moment a dozen or more zealous altar-workers gathered around Anner ’Lizer, and began to clap and sing with all their might, keeping time to the melodious cadence of their music with heavy foot-pats on the resounding floor. “Git on boa’d-ah, little childering, Git on boa’d-ah, little childering, Git on boa’d-ah, little childering, Dere’s room fo’ many mo’. “De gospel ship is sailin’, It’s loaded down wid souls. If you want to mek heab’n yo’ happy home, You mus’ ketch it ’fo’ it goes. Git on boa’d, etc. “King Jesus at de hellum, Fu’ to guide de ship erright. We gwine fu’ to put into heab’n’s po’t Wid ouah sails all shinin’ white. Git on boa’d,” etc. With a long dwell on the last word of the chorus, the mellow cadence of the song died away. “Let us bow down fu’ a season of silent praar,” said the minister.