Step by Step; Or, Tidy's Way to FreedomAmerican Tract Society
General
Step by Step; Or, Tidy's Way to Freedom
American Tract Society
Enslaved persons -- United States -- Religious life; Slavery -- United States -- Religious aspects
Tidy sat with her eyes fixed on the speaker, her mouth open with
amazement, and her hands clasped tightly over her heart, as if to quiet
its feverish throbs; and when he had finished, and one and another in
the congregation added an earnest "Amen," "Hallelujah," and "Praise the
Lord," she could keep still no longer. "'TIS HE," she cried, raising her
hands, "'TIS HE; But I never heard his name before."
The closing hymn fell with sweet acceptance upon her ear, and calmed, in
some measure, the tumultuous rapture of her spirit:--
"Earth has engrossed my love too long!
'Tis time I lift mine eyes
Upward, dear Father, to thy throne,
And to my native skies.
"There the blest Man, my Saviour sits;
The God! how bright he shines!
And scatters infinite delights
On all the happy minds.
*'Seraphs, with elevated strains,
Circle the throne around;
And move and charm the starry plains,
With an immortal sound.
"Jesus, the Lord, their harps employs;
Jesus, my love, they sing!
Jesus, the life of all our joys,
Sounds sweet from every string.
"Now let me mount and join their song,
And be an angel too;
My heart, my hand, my ear, my tongue,
Here's joyful work for you.
"There ye that love my Saviour sit,
There I would fain have place,
Among your thrones, or at your feet,
So I might see his face."
Is there any thing, dear children, that can penetrate the whole being
with such rapturous joy as the love of Christ? If you have never felt
it, learn to know him that you may experience those "infinite delights"
which he only can pour in upon the soul.
And now we must take leave of Tidy. She lives still, a hearty, humble,
trusting Christian. She has been led to her true rest in God, and in
him she is secure and happy; "sorrowful, yet always rejoicing; having
nothing, and yet possessing all things."
"I have every thing I want," she says, as she sits beside me, "for God
is my Father, and his children, you know, Missus, inherits the earth."
"How happens it, then, that you are so poor?" I ask.
"My Father gives me every thing he sees best for me," is her beautiful
reply. "It wouldn't be good for me to have a great many things. When I
need any thing, I ask him, and he always gives it to me. I AM PERFECTLY
SATISFIED."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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