waiting for the spirit to move the people's hearts and make shouts ring out with pure joy.
The smoky lamp on the high mantel-shelf shed its dim yellow rays on the men's bare, close-clipped heads and the women's hats. Some were old with broken brims and others were new and trimmed with gay ribbons; lack of proper apparel kept nobody home from meeting. God expects people to dress as decently as they can when they gathered to worship Him, but He knows all their needs and what they lack, and while men must always pray with bared heads, women must have their heads covered somehow.
Everybody sang with utmost strength. The room could hardly hold so much sound. Hearts swelled fuller and fuller as feet beat time and hands patted sharply, palm against palm.
Maum Lou, the weakest frailest soul in the room, had begun the shouting. With short, shuffling, rocking steps she eased into the center of the room. Her arms were bent at the elbow, her veined old hands hung limp from her stiff wrists, "Juba-lee" her old lips quivered. Tears shone in her eyes, her joy was keen as grief.
One by one the women joined her, forming an
