And when wounded healed thy wound;
Sought thee wandering, set thee right,
Turned thy darkness into light.
Can a woman’s tender care
Cease towards the child she bare?
Yes, she may forgetful be,
But I will remember thee.”
He lined the hymn so that all could sing, during which he often called the attention of the congregation to the sentiment, to all which I paid great attention, for my mind was forcibly carried back to the state of bondage from which I had just escaped, and the many manifestations of God’s mercies to me throughout the journey. The hymn was not sung by wood or brass, but by mortal tongues, which were more charming in their harmony than ten thousand stringed instruments. This hymn was so precisely suited to my case that I began to feel much better.
The preacher, Rev. Josiah Gilbert, of Baltimore, then arose, taking for his text, “O, praise the Lord, for He is good, and His mercies endure forever.” Never before nor since have I heard such a sermon. The load was removed from my heart, and I found myself standing up in the church, praising God, for it seemed to me a heaven upon earth to my soul.
I felt nothing more of my sickness, and next day went to my work, tending for brick-layers. The following night, at the meeting the question was put if any person wished to join the church. No person went about among the crowd to drag others to the altar, or to force them to say they had religion, when they had none; yet one hundred and twenty, like noble volunteers, forced their way to the altar, and gave in their names, shouting the praises of Immanuel’s God, while the preacher was recording them.