uv de Book. 'Dey young men shall die by de s'ord, an' dey sons
an' dey daughters by de famine.'

"Oh, you chu'ch membahs wat shouts an' prays uv er Sundays an' steals
watermillions uv er week-days! Oh, you young men wat's er cussin' an' er
robbin' uv hen-rooses! Oh, you young women wat's er singin' uv reel
chunes! Oh, you chil'en wat's er sassin' uv ole folks! Oh, you ole
pussons wat's er fussin' an' quarlin'! Oh, you young folks wat's er
dancin' an' prancin'! Oh, you niggers wat's er slightin' uv yer wuck!
Oh! pay 'tenshun ter de message dis ebenin', caze yer gwine wake up some
er deze mornin's, an' dar at yer do's 'll be de s'ord an' de famine.

"'Burhol', I'll punish um! dey young men shall die by de s'ord, an' dey
sons an' dey daughters by de famine.'

"Bredren, an' likewise sistren, yer dunno wat yer foolin' wid! Dem
s'ords an' dem famines is de wust things dey is. Dey's wuss'n de
rheumatiz; dey's wuss'n de toofache; dey's wuss'n de cramps; dey's
wuss'n de lockjaw; dey's wuss'n anything. Wen Adam an' Ebe wuz turnt
outn de gyarden, an' de Lord want ter keep 'em out, wat's dat he put
dar fur ter skyer 'em? Wuz it er elfunt? No, sar! Wuz it er lion? No,
sar! He had plenty beases uv eby kin', but den he didn' cyar 'boutn usen
uv 'em. Wuz hit rain or hail, or fire, or thunder, or lightnin'? No, my
bredren, hit wuz er s'ord! Caze de Lord knowed weneber dey seed de s'ord
dar dey wan't gwine ter facin' it. Oh, den, lis'en at de message dis
ebenin'.

"'Dey young men shall die by de s'ord.'

"An' den, ergin, dars dem famines, my bredren, takin' in de sistren--dem
famines come plum fum Egypt! dey turnt 'em erloose dar one time, mun,
an' de Book sez all de lan' wuz sore, an' thousan's pun top er thousan's
wuz slaint.

"Dey ain't no way fur ter git roun' dem famines. Yer may hide, yer may
run in de swamps, yer may climb de trees, but, bredren, efn eber dem
famines git atter yer, yer gone! dey'll cotch yer! dey's nuffin like 'em
on de face uv de yearth, les'n hit's de s'ord; dar ain't much chice twix
dem two. Wen hit comes ter s'ords an' famines, I tell yer, gemmun, hit's
nip an' tuck. Yit de message, hit sez, 'dey young men shall die by de
s'ord, an' dey sons an' dey daughters by de famine.'

"Now, bredren an' sistren, an' monahs an' sinners, don't le's force de
Lord fur ter drive us; le's try fur ter sarve him, an' fur ter git
erlong doutn de s'ords an de famines. Come up hyear roun' dis altar, an'
wrestle fur 'ligion