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threes near the horses； stamping their feet and smoking pipes andtalking。 I summer he had seen people riding in these carriages； looking like people out of books； orout of movies in which everyone wore old…fashioned clothes and rushed at nightfall over frozenroad； hotly pursued by their enemies who wanted to carry them back to death。 ‘Look back； lookback；’ had cried a beautiful woman with long blonde curls； ‘and see if we are pursued！—and shehad e； as John remembered； to a terrible end。 Now he stared at the horses； enormous andbrown and patient； stamping every now and again a polished hoof； and he thought of what it wouldbe like to have one day a horse of his own。 He would call it Rider； and mount it at morning whenthe grass was wet； and from the horse’s back look out over great； sun…filled fields； his own。 Behindhim stood his house； great and rambling and very new； and in the kitchen his wife； a beautifulwoman； made breakfast； and the smoke rose out of the chimney； melting into the morning air。
They had children； who called him Papa and for whom at Christmas he bought electric trains。 Andhe had turkeys and cows and chickens and geese； and other horses besides Rider。 They had a closetfull of whisky and wine； they had cars—but what church did they go to and what would he teachhis children when they gathered around him in the evening？ He looked straight ahead； down FifthAvenue； where graceful women in fur coats walked； looking into the windows that held silkdresses； and watches； and rings。 What church did they go to？ And what were their houses like inthe evening they took off these coats； and these silk dresses； and put their jewelery in a box； andleaned back in soft beds to think for a moment before they slept of the day gone by？ Did they reada verse from the Bible every night and fall on their knees to pray？ But no； for their thoughts werenot of God； and their way was not God’s way。 They were in the world； and of the world； and theirfeet laid hold on Hell。
Yet in school some of them had been nice to him； and it was hard to think of them burningin Hell for ever； they who were so gracious and beautiful now。 Once； one winter when he had beenvery sick with a heavy cold that would not leave him； one of his teachers had bought him a bottleof cod…liver oil； especially prepared with heavy syrup so that it did not taste so bad： this was surelya Christian act。 His mother had said that God would bless that woman； and he had got better。 Theywere kind—he was sire that they were kind—and on the day that he would bring himself to theirattention they would surely love and honor him。 This was not his father’s opinion。 His father saidthat all white people were wicked； and that God was going to bring them low。 He said that whitepeople were never to be trusted； and that they told nothing but lies； and that no one of them hadever loved a nigger。 He； John； was a nigger； and he would find out； as soon as he got a little older；how evil white people could be。 John had read about the things white people did to colored people；how； in the South； where his parents came from； white people cheated them of their wages； andburned them； and shot them—and did worse things； said his father； which the tongue could notendure to utter。 He had read about colored men being burned in the electric chair for things theyhad not done； how in riots they were beaten with clubs； how they were tortured in prisons； howthey were the last to be hired and the first to be fired。 Niggers did not live on these streets whereJohn now walked； it was forbidden； and yet he walked here； and no one raised a hand against him。
But did he dare to enter this shop out of which a woman now casually walked； carrying a greatround box？ Or this apartment before which a white man stood； dressed in a brilliant uniform？ John knew he did not dare； not to…day； and he heard his father’s laugh： ‘No； nor to…morrow neither！’ Forhim there was the back door； and the dark stairs； and the kitchen or the basement。 This world wasnot for him。 If he refused to believe； and wanted to break his neck trying； then he could try untilthe sun refused to shine； they would never let him enter。 In John’s mind then； the people and theavenue underwent a change； and he feared them and knew that one day he could hate them if Goddid not change his heart。
He left Fifth Avenue and walked west toward the movie houses。 Here on 42nd Street it wasless elegant but not less strange。 He loved this street； not for the people or the shops but for thestone lions that guarded the great main building of the Public Library； a building filled with bookand unimaginably vast； and which he had never yet dared to enter。 He might； he knew； for he was amember of the branch in Harlem and was entitled to take books from any library in the city。 But hehad never gone in because the building was so big that it must be full of corridors and marblesteps； in the maze of which he would be lost and never find the book he wanted。 And theneveryone； all the white people inside； would know that he was not used to great buildings； or tomany books； and they would look at him wit pity。 He would enter on another day； when he hadread all the books uptown； an achievement that would； he felt； lend him the poise to enter anybuilding in the world。 People； mostly men； leaned over the stone parapets of the raised park thatsurrounded the library； or walked up and own and bent to drink water from the public drinking…fountains。 Silver pigeons lighted briefly on the heads of the lions or the rims of fountains； andstrutted along the walks。 John loitered in front of Woolworth’s； staring at the candy display； tryingto decide what candy to buy—and buying one； for the store was crowded and he was certain thatthe salesgirl would never notice him—and before a vendor of artificial flowers； and crossed SixthAvenue where the Automat was； and the parked taxis； and the shops； which he would not look atto…day； that displayed in their windows dirty postcards and practical jokes。 Beyond Sixth Avenuethe movie houses began； and now he studied the stills carefully； trying to decide which of all thesetheaters he should enter。 He stopped at last before a gigantic； colored poster that represented awicked woman； half undressed； leaning in a doorway； apparently quarreling with a blond man whostared wretchedly into the street。 The legend above their heads was： ‘There’s a fool like him inevery family—and a woman next door to take him over！’ He decided to see this； for he feltidentified with the blond young man； the fool of his family； and he wished to know more about hisso blatantly unkind fate。
And so he stared at the price above the ticket…seller’s window and； showing her his coins；received the piece of paper that was charged with the power to open doors。 having once decided toenter； he did not look back at the street again for fear that one of the saints might be passing and；seeing him； might cry out his name and lay hands on him to drag him back。 He walked veryquickly across the carpeted lobby； looking at nothing； and pausing only to see his ticket torn； halfof it thrown into a silver box and half returned to him。 And then the usherette opened the doors ofthis dark palace and with a flashlight held behind her took him to his seat。 Not even then； havingpushed past a wilderness of knees and feet to reach his designated seat； did he dare to breathe； nor；out of a last； sick hope for forgiveness； did he look at the screen。 He stared at the darkness aroundhim； and at the profiles that gradually emerged from this gloom； was so like the gloom of Hell。 Hewaited for this darkness to be shattered by the light of the second ing； for the ceiling to crackupward； revealing； for every eye to see； the chariots of fire on which descended a wrathful God and all the host of Heaven。 He sank far down
Part 2 The Prayer Of The Saints
THE PRAYER OF THE SAINTSAnd they cried with a loud voice；saying； How long； O Lord； holy and true；dost thou not judge and avengeour blood on them that dwell on the earth1 FLORENCE’S PRAYERLight and life to all He brings；Risen with healing in His wings！
Florence raised her voice in the only song she could remember that her mother used to sing：
‘It’s me； it’s me； it’s me； oh； Lord； Standing in the need of prayer。’
Gabriel turned to stare at her； in astonished triumph that his sister should at last behumbled。 She did not look at him。 Her thoughts were all on God。 After a moment； the congregationand the piano joined her：
‘Not my father； not my motherBut it’s me； oh； Lord。’
She knew that Gabriel rejoiced； not that her humility might lead her to grace； but only thatsome private anguish had brought her low： her songs revealed that she was suffering； and this herbrother was glad to see。 This had always been his spirit。 Nothing had ever changed it； nothing everwould。 For a moment her pride stood up； the resolution that had brought her to this place to…nightfaltered； and she felt that if Gabriel was the Lord’s anointed； she would rather die and endure Hellfor all eternity than bow before His altar。 But she strangled her pride； rising to stand with them inthe holy space before the altar； and still singing：
‘Standing in the need of prayer。’
Kneeling as she had not knelt for many years； and in this pany before the altar； shegained again from the song the meaning it had held for her mother； and gained a new meaning forherself。 As a child； the song had made her see a woman； dressed in black； standing in infinite mistsalone； waiting for the form of the Son of God to lead her through the white fire。 This woman nowreturned to her； more desolate； it was herself； not knowing where to put her foot； she waitedtrembling； for the mists to be parted that she might walk in peace。 That long road； her life； whichshe had followed for sixty groaning years； had led her at last to her mother’s starting…place； thealtar of the Lord。 For her feet stood on the edge of that river which her mother； rejoicing； hadcrossed over。 And would the Lord now reach out His hand to Florence and heal and save？ But；going down before the scarlet cloth at the foot of the golden cross； it came to her that she hadforgotten how to pray。
Her mother has taught her that the way to pray was to forget everything and everyone butJesus； to pour out of the heart； like water from a bucket； all evil thoughts； all thoughts of self； allmalice for one’s enemies； to e boldly； and yet more humbly than the little child； before theGiver of all good things。 Yet； in Florence’s heart to…night hatred and bitterness weighed likegranite； pride refused to abdicate from the throne it had held so long。 Neither love nor humility hadled her to the altar； but only fear。 And God did not hear the prayers of the fearful； for the hearts ofthe fearful held no belief。 Such prayers could rise no higher that the lips that uttered them。
Around her she heard the saints’ voices； a steady； charged murmur； with now and again thename of Jesus rising above； sometimes like the swift rising of a bird into the air of a sunny day； sometimes like the slow rising of the mist from swamp ground。 Was this the way to pray？ In thechurch that she had joined when she first came North one knelt before the altar once only； in thebeginning； to ask for forgiveness of sins； and this acplished； one was baptized and became aChristian； to kneel no more thereafter。 Even if the Lord should lay some great burden on one’sback—as He has done； but never so heavy a burden as this she carried now—one prayed in silence。
It was indecent； the practice of mon niggers to cry aloud at the foot of the altar； tears streamingfor all the world to see。 She had never done it； not even as a girl down home in the church they hadgone to in those days。 Now perhaps it was too late； and the Lord would suffer her to die in thedarkness in which she had lived so long。
In the olden days God had healed His children。 He had caused the blind to see； the lame towalk； and He had raised dead men from the grave。 But Florence remembered one phrase； whichnow she muttered against the knuckles that bruised her lips： ‘Lord； help my unbelief。’
For the message had e to Florence that had e to Hezekiah： Set thine house in order；for thou shalt die and not l