In the midst of the struggle and the difficulties attending work among the Freedmen, there has been one point about which we have allowed our minds to be at rest. As we have been vexed with the problems of education and with the problems of citizenship, we have said to ourselves, one thing is sure: the colored race is religious. And so we have allowed the religious question to remain comparatively in abeyance; we have said, this can wait; we have work in hand which we must attend to; by and by we will look after this. But in that strange haste with which God has been forcing questions upon the American people as touching the Freedmen, we have come, sooner than we thought, upon the religious question at the South. I think we have made a mistake in that we have not given it more prominence heretofore. I think we shall make a grievous mistake if we do not carefully look this subject in the face now. In what sense is it true that the colored race is religious? How far does the religion of the negro of the South fit him for the essential work which his race has now before it? His religion, it seems to me, has been peculiarly, by God’s providence, the religion of the slave, and now the religion demanded is the religion of the man. The most beautiful illustration in all history has been given us by the negro, of the words of Scripture touching God’s gift to his people: “He giveth songs in the night.” The great, happy heart of that people has been singing through all these dark years, while the great heart of the North has been heavy in its shame. The negro of the South has been living for half the century in another world than this. It his been literally true—“his citizenship was in Heaven.” He had no citizenship anywhere else. Now he is a citizen of this world, and the religion that fits a citizen of this world must be his, or he will fail religiously in the problem which is now working out in this country.