hands, eternal in de
heabens!'

"But glory, glory to de Lord! my chil'ren, wese all got dat massa, ef we
only knowd it, and He'm buildin' dem hous'n up dar, now, for ebery one
ob us dat am tryin' to be good and to lub one anoder. _For ebery one ob
us_, I say, and we kin all git de fine hous'n ef we try.

"Recolember, too, my brudders, dat our great Massa am rich, bery rich,
and he kin do all he promise. _He_ doant say, w'en wese worked ober time
to git some little ting to comfort de sick chile, 'I knows, Pomp, you'se
done de work, an' I did 'gree to gib you de pay; but de fact am, Pomp,
de frost hab come so sudden dis yar, dat I'se loss de hull ob de sebenfh
dippin', and I'se pore, so pore, de chile muss go widout dis time.' No,
no, brudders, de bressed Lord He neber talk so. He neber break, 'case de
sebenfh dip am shet off, or 'case de price of turpentime gwo down at de
Norf. He neber sell his niggers down Souf, 'case he lose his money on he
hoss-race. No, my chil'ren, our HEABENLY Massa am rich, RICH, I say. He
own all dis worle, and all de oder worles dat am shinin' up dar in de
sky. He own dem all; but he tink more ob one ob you, more ob one ob
you--pore, ign'rant brack folks dat you am--dan ob all dem great worles!
Who wouldn't belong to sich a Massa as dat? Who wouldn't be his
nigger--not his slave--He doant hab no slaves--but his chile; and 'ef
his chile, den his heir, de heir ob God, and de jined heir wid de
bressed Jesus.' O my chil'ren! tink of dat! de heir ob de Lord ob all de
'arth and all de sky! What white man kin be more'n dat?

"Don't none ob you say you'm too wicked to be His chile; 'ca'se you
haint. He lubs de wicked ones de best, 'ca'se dey need his lub de most.
Yas, my brudders, eben de wickedest, ef dey's only sorry, and turn roun'
and leab off dar bad ways, he lub de bery best ob all, 'ca'se he'm all
lub and pity.

"Sam, har, my chil'ren, war wicked, but don't _we_ pity him; don't _we_
tink he hab a hard time, and don't we tink de bad oberseer, who'm layin'
dar in de house jess ready to gwo and answer for it--don't we tink he
gabe Sam bery great probincation?

"Dat's so," said a dozen of the auditors.

"Den don't you 'spose dat de bressed Lord know all dat, and dat He pity
Sam too. If we pore sinners feel sorrer for him, haint de Lord's heart
bigger'n our'n, and haint he more sorrer for him? Don't you tink dat ef
He lub and pity de bery worse whites, dat He lub and pity pore Sam, who
warn't