"I'm gwine to sit down at the welcome table, Den my little soul's gwine to shine. I'm gwine to feast off milk and honey, Den my little soul's gwine to shine. I'm gwine to tell God how-a you sarved me, Den my little soul's gwine to shine."[104] The place that heaven must have had in the attitude of the slave we shall now consider, by an examination of the slave's mental world. To do so we must feel the hand of slavery holding him in subjection to the will of the master. The inner voices that called the black slave at his task, clothed in simple garb, and living on homely fare, we also must hear speaking to us, and invoking the same response. Then we shall be able to appreciate the religious significance of the situations. The bell upon the white pole in the great-house yard summons the slaves to their daily tasks in the fields. Quickly, the slave-mother, rising from the cabin-floor, and taking her babe upon her back, sets out to join the crowd. With brawny arms around his mother's neck, the young child glares at the red rising of the sun, until he is left at the end of the row. Then as mother's hoe cuts grass from the tender corn, he hears her foot-steps blend with those of the plowman, her voice of love mingle with the mumble of slaves, and the songs of birds, that play in the warm sunlight of the morning. With longing eyes the child watches her who, last night, when her work was done, fed him from her breast, as she sat upon the cabin-floor, murmuring of a better world, where child and mother would know no weary sun. Sitting upon the green grass that fringes the end of the long rows, he watches her toiling, disappearing into the distance. Taken from his mother at the age of seven, the child is transferred to the great-house yard, where the harsh voices of slave-children, conscious of their lot, fill the air. Yesterday he sat in the cabin-door, upon grandmother's knee, listening to the grinding of the big mill down by the pond, and watching the squirrels drop acorns from the old oak tree. Last night he opened the door for father, who, worn from being away so long, brought few potatoes and corn. Then there was a great time. Father, in overalls, grandmother with a "slat-bonnet" upon her gray head, mother with a "grass-sack" around her waist, all knelt upon their knees in prayer to God above, father leading mournfully. "Get up in heaven by-and-by," he said, until all were filled with joy. How different things are today. The old mill by the pond is now seen lifting its white, bird-like wings into heaven, where mother, father and grandmother may be. They may be up there in the sunlight, singing and shouting with the angels.