Democratic Sentinel, Volume 19, Number 18, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 10 May 1895 — EXHORTIN’ DOWN IN GEORGIA [ARTICLE]

EXHORTIN’ DOWN IN GEORGIA

Colored Preachers Description of the Trip to the Land of Promise. Straying into a darky church in the “low country” of Georgia, says a writer in the New York Tribune, I happened upon a real “exhortin’,” which is a very different affair from an every-day “meetin’.” A toothless, white-haired old preacher had reached the red-hot stage of “his disco’se;” singing and swaying he was shouting out a protest against “de trials ob de present life, breddern,” and picturing with lusty roars the contrasting joys “ob de life ebberlastin’.” He used his text—which seemed to have nothing in common with his remarks—to fill up the waste places, ringing it in whenever he ended one thought and before he started on the devious paths of another. He segmed to use it on the same principle that a stuttering man swears or whistles, to launch himself successfully upon a sentence. “An’ blow ye de trumpet all aroun’ about de camp! What is you niggahs good fo’, anyhow, down in dis vale ob teahs? Yo’ ain’t no ’count in de persiderashun ob de white fo’ks, onless it’s de votin’ time in ie city! An’, breddern, takin’ in de sistern, don’ yo’ know dat down on de yearth yo’ ain’t got no holt nowhar longside ob de white fo’ks? Yo’ hyear a po’ ole niggah now, an’ yo’ know hits de turf he’s a tellin’ yer, an’ yo’ jes’ better done come dis day to de Lawd. When yo’ go to make a little jant on de railroad train, yo’ can’t go in de white fo’ks’ waitin’-room in de cyar-shed, an’ yo’ can’t go in de white fo’ks’ cyar on de train, yo’ done gotter go in de place fo’ de black fo’ks. In de schools yo’ can’t run up agin dem white fo’ks, yo’ mus’ allers stay wid de cullud peoples—(an’ a heap sight better comp’ny dey is, too!) Yo’ can’t eben go to de white fo’ks’ chu’ch to hear de word of de Lawd ob us all, onless yo’ set In de spesheral seats fo’ de cullud fo’ks” —voice very loud and sing-song here) — “but when we git a ready—for to lace up—dem a wings—bress-de-Lawd!—an’ to cross ober—dat Ribber Jordan—an’ go thu’ —them a pearly gates—into Canaan up there—we won’t find no black fo’ks’ waitin’-room! De gospel train’ll take us right into the presence of the great white frone. An’ de black man shall be dere, and de yaller man shall be dere an’—an’ de red man an’— an’ de blue man! an’ blow ye de trumpet all ’roun* ’bout de camp!”