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Updated: June 29, 2025
The hymn, too, is no longer selected from the prayer-book, but from some unwritten collection better adapted to their ideas of "heart-religion": De angel cry out A-men, A-men! A-men! De angel cry out A-men! I'se bound to de promis' lan'! I da gwine up to hebbin in a long w'ite robe, Long w'ite robe! long w'ite robe! My Sabiour tell me wear dat robe W'en I meet him in de promis' lan'!
Magnolia, clothed in black, had sobbed loudly, while Mr. Clutters sniffed and said "A-men" very emphatically, and the parson, regarding the little group of mourners with the curiosity of a man who is bored by death and the ritual of burial, gabbled away: NowisChristrisen fromthedeadandbecomethefirstfruitsofthemthatsleptforsince Bymancamedeathbymancamealso Theresurrectionofthedead....
It would have been more satisfactory to have been able to make out whence came the stentorian A-men, that responded to the parson, totally unaccompanied save by the good Major, who always read his part almost as loud as the clerk, from a great octavo prayer-book, bearing on the lid the Delavie arms with coronet, supporters, and motto, "Ma Vie et ma Mie."
Seemin' to me, you baint. You don't show enough of the bright side. Now, as I go along, my very toes keep ticking salvation. Down goes one foot, 'Glory be! Down goes the other, 'A-men! Aw! I must dance for joy!" He got up and danced around the kitchen. "I wish the man would go," Humility thought to herself. His very next words answered her wish. "I'll be leavin' to-morrow, friends.
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