Djelem Djelem

Go Down Death by James Weldon Johnson

Weep not, weep not,
She is not dead;
She's resting in the bosom of Jesus.
Heart-broken husband--weep no more;
Grief-stricken son--weep no more;
Left-lonesome daughter --weep no more;
She only just gone home.

Day before yesterday morning,
God was looking down from his great, high heaven,
Looking down on all his children,
And his eye fell on Sister Caroline,
Tossing on her bed of pain.
And God's big heart was touched with pity,
With the everlasting pity.

And God sat back on his throne,
And he commanded that tall, bright angel standing at his right hand:
Call me Death!
And that tall, bright angel cried in a voice
That broke like a clap of thunder:
Call Death!--Call Death!
And the echo sounded down the streets of heaven
Till it reached away back to that shadowy place,
Where Death waits with his pale, white horses.

And Death heard the summons,
And he leaped on his fastest horse,
Pale as a sheet in the moonlight.
Up the golden street Death galloped,
And the hooves of his horses struck fire from the gold,
But they didn't make no sound.
Up Death rode to the Great White Throne,
And waited for God's command.

And God said: Go down, Death, go down,
Go down to Savannah, Georgia,
Down in Yamacraw,
And find Sister Caroline.
She's borne the burden and heat of the day,
She's labored long in my vineyard,
And she's tired--
She's weary--
Go down, Death, and bring her to me.

And Death didn't say a word,
But he loosed the reins on his pale, white horse,
And he clamped the spurs to his bloodless sides,
And out and down he rode,
Through heaven's pearly gates,
Past suns and moons and stars;
on Death rode,
Leaving the lightning's flash behind;
Straight down he came.

While we were watching round her bed,
She turned her eyes and looked away,
She saw what we couldn't see;
She saw Old Death. She saw Old Death
Coming like a falling star.
But Death didn't frighten Sister Caroline;
He looked to her like a welcome friend.
And she whispered to us: I'm going home,
And she smiled and closed her eyes.

And Death took her up like a baby,
And she lay in his icy arms,
But she didn't feel no chill.
And death began to ride again--
Up beyond the evening star,
Into the glittering light of glory,
On to the Great White Throne.
And there he laid Sister Caroline
On the loving breast of Jesus.

And Jesus took his own hand and wiped away her tears,
And he smoothed the furrows from her face,
And the angels sang a little song,
And Jesus rocked her in his arms,
And kept a-saying: Take your rest,
Take your rest.

Weep not--weep not,
She is not dead;
She's resting in the bosom of Jesus.

Wenn sich Hammondorgel und Schlagzeug treffen

Der Jugendkongress (meldet euch an)steht vor der Tür und ein Thema steht im besonderen Fokus. Die Musik. Was für eine Musik wird gespielt werden? Wer wird spielen und singen? Welcher Stil, welche Instrumente... Die selben Fragen, zum unendlichsten Mal - die selben wenigen und so was von nicht objektiven Antworten. Der musikalische Beitrag unten ist zwar nicht die Antwort, aber ein Eindruck von herrlich lockerem und entspantem Umgang mit Musik. Wenn wir doch alle ein wenig schwarz sein könnten.

Ab 5:15 wirds lustig. Ab 5:40 sind wir in der Gänsehautabteilung angekommen. Wenn man genau hinhört, dann hört man die HammondOrgeln ihr Gebet singen. Die Leute sind alle so gut angezogen. Die Leute essen so gesund. Die Leute opfern sich so sehr für ihr Gemeinde auf. Die Leute sehen so "richtig" aus. Und trotzdem haben sie "joy". Sie scheinen so gerne da zu sein. Es scheint, als müssten sie nicht überzeugt werden. Es haben so viele ein Lächeln auf ihren Lippen und ich stelle mit vor, wie sie nach diesem Gottesdienst nach Hause gehen und die kommende Woche mir Mut und Enthusiasmus anpacken. Wenn sich Hammondorgel und Schlagzeug treffen - da passieren unglaubliche Dinge.