“Challenging as the voice of a delivered soul, the strong, clear bass gives out the words; others join in—a soprano acquiescence, a contralto surge of content, the ecstatic agreement of the tenor. Joy throbs through the singers’ throats, their cup of joy runneth over! ‘See dat band all dressed in white, De leader looks like the Israelite...’ “How the leader draws them out—to send their message surging across the summer night into the hearts of thousands! ‘Wade in de water, God’s a-goin’ to trouble de water...’ “The last note swells and is still. “In a moment they begin again. This time it is a joyous refrain, pulsing with the firmness of blessed assurance—assurance that warms the heart and moistens the eyes. ‘My God is so high you can’t get above Him, My God is so low you can’t get below Him, My God is so wide you can’t get around Him, You must come in through de door...’ “Your soul thrills to the swinging certainty. Yes, He is so high, you can’t get above Him, so low you can’t get below Him; so wide you can’t get around Him! There is no way in but through the Gate! “The music dies away, far above the stars gleam—detached, assured, eternal. From your eyes, quite unashamed, you brush away the tears. “Thus do they worship our Lord!” It was a memorable day in one man’s life when Black Uncle’s Song Made a Minister A well-known white minister in the Middle West owed his conversion and his entrance into the ministry to an unexpected circumstance. He belonged to a company that was playing in Louisville. After the performance he left the theater at a late hour to take a turn around the streets of the city. He passed through a little park and saw a bent old Negro “uncle” sitting on a bench. As he approached the actor heard him singing softly to himself. And the song was “Jesus, Lovah uv Mah Soul.” The tenderness and feeling of the darky’s song and the clear tone of his aged voice held the listener spellbound. When the last verse was sung the youthful actor went up to the singer and pulling out a big bill said: “Uncle, you’re an old man, and it’s late for you to be out like this. If you have no home, this will help you a bit. Take it and go and be comfortable for a few days, anyway.” The Negro took off his hat and said, “Dat’s pow’ful kind uv you, boss. Ah’s ol’, an’ Ah ain’t got no home, an’ ef hit’s jes’ de same to you Ah’ll take jes’ a bit uv dat money—’case somehow or udder de good Lawd he sen’s me a bit ev’y day. But Ah don’t need any mo’, ’case he allus loks arter me, ev’y day. An’ hit don’t matter, boss, ef an ol’ man’s ol’, an’ ain’t got no home, jes’ so’s he kin sing dat ’ere song uv mine. Ah’d like to sing hit again to yo’, jes’ case you done gib me dis. Hit’s a wunnerful song, boss. Hit’s called, ‘Jesus, Lovah uv Mah Soul!’”