_Songs of the Negroes_
Whatever else may be said about _The Green Pastures_ by Marc Connelly,
it obviously represents the naive and simple faith of thousands of
untutored black Christians in the South. They accept the wonders of the
Old Testament with crude literalness and they unhesitatingly believe
that these marvels can be reproduced in their own lives.
One of the chief values of this play is the discerning use made of the
unique spirituals which are a distinctive contribution of America to
music. No one who has ever heard them sung can forget the impression of
pathos at times rising to the heights of astonishing power. Without any
regard for rhyme, rhythm or meter, these dialect songs express the long
suppressed longings for freedom and happiness. The Negro furthermore
firmly believes that these benefits are to be realized by means of
religion alone. However sensuous may be some of the figures of speech,
the emphasis is always on the supremacy of spiritual values.
There are other features in Negro singing especially connected with
religious revivals which throw light on the characteristic traits of
this people. Aggrey of Africa was a remarkable representative of the
Negro race. His life, written by Edwin W. Smith, is one of the
outstanding biographies of recent times. He once said, "I believe that
the Negro has a great gift for the world; the gift of the idea of
meeting injustice and ostracism and oppression by sunny light-hearted
love and work. I believe he is going to teach that to Asia and the white
folk." His attitude to life is best expressed in songs as indicated by a
few illustrations in this chapter.
Dr. Willis J. King, president of Samuel Houston College, Austin, Texas,
in a recent article in _The Christian Advocate_, pointed out
The Value of Negro Spirituals
"The peculiarity of both the melody and the dialect of the spirituals
tends to make them difficult for people other than American Negroes to
render. But these difficulties are being overcome. With increasing
frequency they are being rendered by white American choirs and
congregations. Some of them, like 'Lord, I Want to be a Christian' and
'Were You There When They Crucified My Lord?' are quite singable, after
brief rehearsals, by the ordinary church group of any race or
nationality. So it would seem not too much to expect that a number of
these spirituals will ultimately find their place among the great hymns
of the Church, and be sung down through the ages by Christians of every
land."
The ability to sing the spirituals depends upon
Finding the Soul of the Song
Dr. Bruce S. Wright tells of a well-known American-Italian tenor who
said that he never sang a selection until he found out the soul of the
number. For that reason he refrained from singing Negro spirituals until
he had spent considerable time in the South living among the Negroes,
listening to them sing. So today he sings "Steal Away" as he heard it
sung at a Negro revival; and he sings "Goin' Home" as he heard it sung
at the dying bed of an aged Negro in a Negro's cabin.
Here is a vivid description by Annemarie Ewing in _The Christian
Herald_:
How the Negroes Sing
"In the huge stadium, dropped like a bowl beneath the starlit sky,
thousands of people sit waiting to hear the Hall Johnson Choir. Overhead
the sky is indigo, dotted with twinkling stars, glorious with the cool
silver of a full moon. A tender, capricious wind breathes softly over
the semicircle of the waiting crowd.
"Now they come--a handful of Negroes, perhaps a dozen men and a half
dozen women. So small a group looks lost on the big platform. At a
signal from their leader they begin.
'Wade in de water, chillun,
God's a'goin' to trouble de water...'
"Challenging as the voice of a delivered soul, the strong, clear bass
gives out the words; others join in--a soprano acquiescence, a contralto
surge of content, the ecstatic agreement of the tenor. Joy throbs
through the singers' throats, their cup of joy runneth over!
'See dat band all dressed in white,
De leader looks like the Israelite...'
"How the leader draws them out--to send their message surging across the
summer night into the hearts of thousands!
'Wade in de water,
God's a-goin' to trouble de water...'
"The last note swells and is still.
"In a moment they begin again. This time it is a joyous refrain, pulsing
with the firmness of blessed assurance--assurance that warms the heart
and moistens the eyes.
'My God is so high you can't get above Him,
My God is so low you can't get below Him,
My God is so wide you can't get around Him,
You must come in through de door...'
"Your soul thrills to the swinging certainty. Yes, He is so high, you
can't get above Him, so low you can't get below Him; so wide you can't
get around Him! There is no way in but through the Gate!
"The music dies away, far above the stars gleam--detached, assured,
eternal. From your eyes, quite unashamed, you brush away the tears.
"Thus do they worship our Lord!"
It was a memorable day in one man's life when
Black Uncle's Song Made a Minister
A well-known white minister in the Middle West owed his conversion and
his entrance into the ministry to an unexpected circumstance. He
belonged to a company that was playing in Louisville. After the
performance he left the theater at a late hour to take a turn around the
streets of the city. He passed through a little park and saw a bent old
Negro "uncle" sitting on a bench. As he approached the actor heard him
singing softly to himself. And the song was "Jesus, Lovah uv Mah Soul."
The tenderness and feeling of the darky's song and the clear tone of his
aged voice held the listener spellbound.
When the last verse was sung the youthful actor went up to the singer
and pulling out a big bill said: "Uncle, you're an old man, and it's
late for you to be out like this. If you have no home, this will help
you a bit. Take it and go and be comfortable for a few days, anyway."
The Negro took off his hat and said, "Dat's pow'ful kind uv you, boss.
Ah's ol', an' Ah ain't got no home, an' ef hit's jes' de same to you
Ah'll take jes' a bit uv dat money--'case somehow or udder de good Lawd
he sen's me a bit ev'y day. But Ah don't need any mo', 'case he allus
loks arter me, ev'y day. An' hit don't matter, boss, ef an ol' man's
ol', an' ain't got no home, jes' so's he kin sing dat 'ere song uv mine.
Ah'd like to sing hit again to yo', jes' case you done gib me dis. Hit's
a wunnerful song, boss. Hit's called, 'Jesus, Lovah uv Mah Soul!'"
He then sang it again softly. The actor heard him through and then
shaking hands with the Negro, to his surprise, said, "Good night, uncle.
You've done a good night's work with that song--better than ever I've
done with my life. Because you've started me doing something--for I'm
going to learn to sing that song, too!"
That was the beginning of an experience which resulted in a gifted man
becoming a minister of Christ.
The characteristic gratitude of the dark race was illustrated when
A Negro Family Sang at John Brown's Funeral
"John Brown's Body Rests Amid the Mountains," wrote Mary Lee in _The New
York Times_, October, 1929, as she vividly told the story of the life of
this dramatic figure in a fascinating manner. At that time, she
affirmed, there was still living at North Elba one man who could
remember John Brown. His name was Lyman Epps, "the son of one of those
Negroes whom John Brown came to North Elba to help." This writer adds:
"The Epps family it was who sang as a quartet at John Brown's funeral in
1859. Lyman Epps remembers it to this day--how he stood at the foot of
the open casket singing bass, his father at the head, singing tenor, and
his two sisters, Amelia and Evelyn, singing soprano and alto, at his
side." The hymn they sang was John Brown's favorite:
"Blow ye the trumpet, blow!
The gladly solemn sound
Let all the nations know,
To earth's remotest bound,
The year of jubilee is come!
Return, ye ransomed sinners, home."