The African Preacher: An Authentic Narrative, Volume 3

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Presbyterian Board of Publication, 1849 - African American clergy - 139 pages
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Page 50 - For her my tears shall fall ; For her my prayers ascend : To her my cares and toils be given, 'Till toils and cares shall end.
Page 7 - Hearken, my beloved brethren, Hath not God chosen the poor of this world rich in faith, and heirs of the kingdom which he hath promised to them that love him ? But ye have despised the poor.
Page 95 - Jesus answered and said unto her, If thou knewest the gift of God, and Who it is that saith to thee, Give me to drink ; thou wouldest have asked of him, and he would have given thee living water.
Page 7 - God hath chosen the foolish things of the world to confound the wise, and the weak things of the world to confound the things which are mighty...
Page 76 - I have discovered lately that I am a great sinner, and I have commenced reading the Bible, that I may learn what I must do to be saved. But I have met with a passage here,' holding up his Bible, 'which I know not what to do with.
Page 138 - About the centre was stationed the black preacher, a man of gigantic frame and stentorian lungs, who gave out from memory the words of a hymn suitable to the occasion. The Southern negroes are proverbial for the melody and compass of their voices, and I thought that hymn, mellowed by distance, the most solemn, and yet the sweetest music that had ever fallen upon my ear.
Page 134 - ... experienced since my father's death. I lost this morning the truest and most reliable friend I had in the world — one whom I have been accustomed to honor and respect since my earliest recollection; he was the playmate of my father's youth and the mentor of mine — a faithful servant, an honest man, and a sincere Christian. I stood by his bedside to-day, and with his hands clasped in mine, I heard the last words he uttered ; they were,
Page 135 - ... relation between master and servant as this simple incident. It was not the haughty planter, the lordly tyrant, talking of his dead slave as of his dead horse, but the kind-hearted gentleman, lamenting the loss and eulogizing the virtues of his good old friend. After an interval of silence, my host resumed : "There are," said he, "many of the old man's relatives and friends who would wish to attend his funeral.
Page 50 - If I forget thee, 0 Jerusalem, let my right hand forget her cunning. If I do not remember thee, let my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth ; If I prefer not Jerusalem above my chief joy.
Page 136 - Most certainly, sir; but," I added, "if there is no impropriety, I would be pleased to accompany you." "There is none," he replied; and I followed him to one of a long row of cabins, situated at the distance of some three hundred yards from the mansion. The house was crowded with negroes.

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