much trouble ter make the change an' pull the debble chune 'roun' ter the hymn chune."
"Oh, please sing it to me, Aunt Pearly Gates!"
"I ain't got much voice left, honey chil', but this is the way it went:
"'Come along, true believer, come along:
The time am a rollin' 'roun,'
When them what stan's a-haltin' by the way
Won't wear no glory crown!
Oh, the moon shine white, the moon shine bright;
Hear the news what the spirut tells,
The angels say there's nothin' fer ter do
But ter ring them cha'min' bells!
"'Almos' home! Almos' home!
We faints an' falls by spells:
Angels say th'ain't nothin' fer to do
But ter ring them cha'min' bells!'"
The sweet old voice rose and fell in the lovely negro melody. Rebecca's eyes filled with tears ss she listened, enraptured.
"And then what?" she asked, breathless.
"Then all jined in an' we po' colored folks stood thar in the moonlight an' worshipped Gawd lak white folks done taught us ter worship, with the shadow of the cross fallin' on us."
"Oh, Aunt Pearly Gates, how wonderful!
