Den whut Jesus "wine say, O breddren?
O sistuhn?
Is you got de ricklickshun en de Blood of de Lamb?
Case I aint gwine load down heaven!"
He fumbled in his coat and took out a handkerchief and mopped his face.
A low concerted sound rose from the congregation:
"Mmmmmmmmmmmmm!"
The woman's voice said,
"Yes, Jesus!
Jesus!"
"Breddren!
Look at dem little chiller settin dar.
Jesus wus like dat once.
He mammy suffered de glory en de pangs.
Sometime maybe she heft him at de nightfall, whilst de angels singin him to sleep; maybe she look out de do en see de Roman po-lice passin." He tramped back and forth, mopping his face. "Listen, breddren!
I sees de day.
Ma'y settin in de do wid Jesus on her lap, de little Jesus.
Like dem chiller dar, de little Jesus.
I hears de angels singin de peaceful songs en de glory; I sees de closin eyes; sees Mary jump up, sees de sojer face: We gwine to kill!
We gwine to kill!
We gwine to kill yo little Jesus!
I hears de weepin en de lamentation of de po mammy widout de salvation en de word of God!"
"Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm!
Jesus!
Little Jesus! and another voice, rising:
"I sees, O Jesus!
Oh I sees!" and still another, without words, like bubbles rising in water.
"I sees hit, breddren!
I sees hit!
Sees de blastin, blindin sight!
I sees Calvary, wid de sacred trees, sees de thief en de murderer en de least of dese; I hears de boastin en de braggin: Ef you be Jesus, lif up yo tree en walk!
I hears de wailin of women en de evenin lamentations; I hears de weepin en de cryin en de turns-away face of God: dey done kilt Jesus; dey done kilt my Son!"
"Mmmmmmmmmmmmm.
Jesus!
I sees, O Jesus!"
"O blind sinner!
Breddren, I tells you; sistuhn, I says to you, when de Lawd did turn His mighty face, say, Aint "wine overload heaven!
I can see de widowed God shet His do; I sees de whelmin flood roll between; I sees de darkness en de death everlastin upon de generations.
Den, lo!
Breddren!
Yes, breddren!
Whut I see?
Whut I see, O sinner?
I sees de resurrection en de light; sees de meek Jesus sayin Dey kilt me dat ye shall live again; I died dat dem whut sees en believes shall never die.
Breddren, O breddren!
I sees de doom crack en de golden horns shoutin down de glory, en de arisen dead whut got de blood en de ricklickshun of de Lamb!"
In the midst of the voices and the hands Ben sat, rapt in his sweet blue gaze.
Dilsey sat bolt upright beside, crying rigidly and quietly in the annealment and the blood of the remembered Lamb.
As they walked through the bright noon, up the sandy road with the dispersing congregation talking easily again group to group, she continued to weep, unmindful of the talk.
"He sho a preacher, mon!!