When the hymn was done Reverend stepped to the side of the pulpit to say he would add something new to the service. The Ten Commandments. People must understand what the laws of God are before they can keep them rightly. He would read them, one at a time, and at the end of each the congregation must pray.
“Do, Lord, help us to keep this law.”
“Does everybody understand?”
A roar of answers came back, “Yes suh, we understan’ good, suh!” but Maum Hannah shook her head and objected in clear distinct words, “No, son, dat’s how de white folks pray! Gawd ain’ used to we prayin’ dat way!”
April smiled, but Uncle Bill was worried. “Hush, Auntie! You’ll git de preacher all tangled up.”
She gave up. Her eyes fell. Her hands caught at each other and held fast. The thin-veined, blue-nailed fingers, knotted at every joint, twisted into a tight uneasy grip, then sank into a fold of her white apron. Tears ran out from under her shut eyelids.
The preacher opened the Bible, and turned the leaves over for the right place. When it lay under his eyes he began a solemn,
“‘Thou shalt have no other gods before me’!”
When he raised his eyes to the congregation Uncle Bill led a ragged wave of voices into a loud, “Do, Lawd, help us to keep dis law!”
The preacher smiled and nodded approval, then bent over the Book to read the next commandment. It was a long one. The people didn’t know exactly when it ended, but he started them off, and they responded with an eager rush, “Do, Lawd, help us to keep dis law!”