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Or those, again, who for six days in the week are absorbed in making money honestly if they can, no doubt, but still making money, and living luxuriously on their profits and on the seventh listen with satisfaction to preachers and hymns which tell them that this world is all a howling wilderness, full of snares and pitfalls; and that in this wretched place the Christian can expect nothing but tribulation and persecution till he "crosses Jordan, and is landed safe on Canaan's store," and so forth.

Hold your light, Hold your light, Hold your light on Canaan's shore." This would be sung for half an hour at a time, perhaps each person present being named in turn. It seemed the simplest primitive type of "spiritual." The next in popularity was almost as elementary, and, like this, named successively each one of the circle. It was, however, much more resounding and convivial in its music.

Was the captivity of Canaan's race to be even stronger than He, who came "to bind up the broken-hearted, and proclaim liberty to the captives?" But who were Canaan and his descendants? You speak of them, and with singular unfairness, I think, as "the posterity of Ham, from whom, it is supposed, sprang the Africans."

It was sung perhaps twice as often as any other. This was partly due to the fact that it properly consisted of a chorus alone, with which the verses of other songs might be combined at random. "Hold your light, Brudder Robert, Hold your light, Hold your light on Canaan's shore. "What make ole Satan for follow me so? Satan ain't got notin' for do wid me.

"Then you don't complain of Canaan?" "Of course not." She threw him a quick, bright, happy look, then glanced again at the chair in which Mrs. Fear had sat. "Joe," she said, "last night I heard the people singing in the houses, the old Sunday-evening way. It 'took me back so'!" "Yes, it would. And something else: there's one hymn they sing more than any other; it's Canaan's favorite.

Here is also Rahab the harlot, and Bathsheba, that bare a bastard to David. Here is Solomon, that great backslider; and Manasseh, that man of blood and a witch. Time would fail to tell you of the woman of Canaan's daughter, of Mary Magdalene, of Matthew the publican, and of Gideon and Samson, and many thousands more. Alas! alas!

With the first suspicion of dawn, every pilgrim took off his clothes and waded into the dark torrent, singing: "On Jordan's stormy banks I stand, And cast a wistful eye To Canaan's fair and happy land, Where my possessions lie." But they did not sing long. The water was so fearfully cold that they were obliged to stop singing and scamper out again.

Were Canaan's posterity to endure the entailment of its disabilities and woes, until the end of time? Was Divine mercy never to stay the desolating waves of this curse? Was their harsh and angry roar to reach, even into the gospel dispensation, and to mingle discordantly with the songs of "peace on earth and good will to men?"

She began immediately one of the hymns that were always ready on her tongue, and which were wonderfully soothing to Daisy. Juanita was old, but her voice was sweet yet and clear; and she sang with a deal of quiet spirit. "'A few more days or years at most, My troubles will be o'er; I hope to join the heavenly host On Canaan's happy shore.

With the first suspicion of dawn, every pilgrim took off his clothes and waded into the dark torrent, singing: "On Jordan's stormy banks I stand, And cast a wistful eye To Canaan's fair and happy land, Where my possessions lie." But they did not sing long. The water was so fearfully cold that they were obliged to stop singing and scamper out again.