Martin Luther King Jr. Day Anthology | Page 5

to go down there every
day, an' pray an' cry with all my might, a-prayin' to the Lord to make

my massa an' missis better, but it didn't seem to do no good; an' so says
I, one day,-- "'O God, I been a-askin' ye, an' askin' ye, an' askin' ye, for
all this long time, to make my massa an' missis better, an' you don't do
it, an' what CAN be the reason? Why, maybe you CAN'T. Well, I
shouldn't wonder ef you couldn't. Well, now, I tell you, I'll make a
bargain with you. Ef you'll help me to git away from my massa an'
missis, I'll agree to be good; but ef you don't help me, I really don't
think I can be. Now,' says I, 'I want to git away; but the trouble's jest
here: ef I try to git away in the night, I can't see; an' ef I try to git away
in the daytime, they'll see me, an' be after me.' "Then the Lord said to
me, 'Git up two or three hours afore daylight, an' start off.' "An' says I,
'Thank 'ee, Lord! that's a good thought.' "So up I got, about three
o'clock in the mornin', an' I started an' travelled pretty fast, till, when
the sun rose, I was clear away from our place an' our folks, an' out o'
sight. An' then I begun to think I didn't know nothin' where to go. So I
kneeled down, and says I,-- "'Well, Lord, you've started me out, an'
now please to show me where to go.' "Then the Lord made a house
appear to me, an' He said to me that I was to walk on till I saw that
house, an' then go in an' ask the people to take me. An' I travelled all
day, an' didn't come to the house till late at night; but when I saw it,
sure enough, I went in, an' I told the folks that the Lord sent me; an'
they was Quakers, an' real kind they was to me. They jes' took me in,
an' did for me as kind as ef I'd been one of 'em; an' after they'd giv me
supper, they took me into a room where there was a great, tall, white
bed; an' they told me to sleep there. Well, honey, I was kind o' skeered
when they left me alone with that great white bed; 'cause I never had
been in a bed in my life. It never came into my mind they could mean
me to sleep in it. An' so I jes' camped down under it, on the floor, an'
then I slep' pretty well. In the mornin', when they came in, they asked
me ef I hadn't been asleep; an' I said, 'Yes, I never slep' better.' An' they
said, 'Why, you haven't been in the bed!' An' says I, 'Laws, you didn't
think o' such a thing as my sleepin' in dat 'ar' BED, did you? I never
heerd o' such a thing in my life.' "Well, ye see, honey, I stayed an' lived
with 'em. An' now jes' look here: instead o' keepin' my promise an' bein'
good, as I told the Lord I would, jest as soon as everything got a'goin'
easy, I FORGOT ALL ABOUT GOD. "Pretty well don't need no help;
an' I gin up prayin.' I lived there two or three years, an' then the slaves

in New York were all set free, an' ole massa came to our home to make
a visit, an' he asked me ef I didn't want to go back an' see the folks on
the ole place. An' I told him I did. So he said, ef I'd jes' git into the
wagon with him, he'd carry me over. Well, jest as I was goin' out to git
into the wagon, I MET GOD! an' says I, 'O God, I didn't know as you
was so great!' An' I turned right round an' come into the house, an' set
down in my room; for 't was God all around me. I could feel it burnin',
burnin', burnin' all around me, an' goin' through me; an' I saw I was so
wicked, it seemed as ef it would burn me up. An' I said, 'O somebody,
somebody, stand between God an' me! for it burns me!' Then, honey,
when I said so, I felt as it were somethin' like an amberill [umbrella]
that came between me an' the light, an' I felt it was
SOMEBODY,--somebody that stood between me an' God; an' it felt
cool, like a shade; an' says I, 'Who's this that stands between me an'
God? Is it old Cato?' He was a pious old preacher; but then I seemed