“Jesus has been awhisperin strange words deep down, O way down deep, deep in my ears.”
Hums of awe and of excitement.
“He called me to His side an said, 'Git down on your knees beside me, son, Ise gwine t whisper in your ears.’”
An old sister cries, “Ah, Lord.”
“'Ise agwine t whisper in your ears,’ he said, an I replied, 'Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.’”
“Ah, Lord. Amen. Amen.”
“An Lord Jesus whispered strange good words deep down, O way down deep, deep in my ears. An He said, 'Tell em till you feel your throat on fire.’ I saw a vision. I saw a man arise, an he was big an black an powerful—”
Some one yells, “Preach it, preacher, preach it!”
“—but his head was caught up in th clouds. An while he was agazin at th heavens, heart filled up with th Lord, some little white-ant biddies came an tied his feet to chains. They led him t th coast, they led him t th sea, they led him across th ocean an they didnt set him free. The old coast didnt miss him, an th new coast wasnt free, he left the old-coast brothers, t give birth t you an me. O Lord, great God Almighty, t give birth t you an me.”
Barlo pauses. Old gray mothers are in tears. Fragments of melodies are being hummed. White folks are touched and curiously awed. Off to themselves, white and black preachers confer as to how best to rid themselves of the vagrant, usurping fellow. Barlo looks as though he is struggling to continue. People are hushed. One can hear weevils work. Dusk is falling rapidly, and the customary store lights fail to throw their feeble glow across the gray dust and flagging of the Georgia town. Barlo rises to his full height. He is immense. To the people he assumes the outlines of his visioned African. In a mighty voice he bellows: