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Read Marching to Zion online free book, all chapters, no download. Full english version. If that’s the kind of work you do, I’m feelin’ better.He had both her hands in the firm grip of one of his own and moved the one that rested on

Toggle navigation FullEnglishBooksHome READ ENGLISH BOOKS Search Marching to Zion Read Marching to Zion Online Authors: Mary Glickman Tags: #Historical BOOK: Marching to Zion 10.6Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub Read Book Download Book « 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 ... 16 ... 22 » MARCHING TOZIONMary GlickmanFor the lovers,their arms around the grief of the agesContentsEpigraphLETTHOSEREFUSE TOSINGSt. Louis, Missouri, East St. Louis, Illinois, 1916–1918IIIIIIIVMARCHING THRUEMANUEL’SGROUNDThe Road to Memphis, 1918–1924VVIVIIVIIIBEFOREWEREACH THEHEAV’NLYFIELDSAlong the Mississippi, Before and After the Flood,1923–1932IXXXIA THOUSANDSACREDSWEETSThe Road to Ruin, 1931–1933XIIXIIIXIVFAIRERWORLDS ONHIGH1934–1936XVXVIXVIIXVIIIAcknowledgmentsAbout the AuthorMarching to ZionCome, we that love the Lord,And let our joys be known;Join in a song with sweet accord,And thus surround the throne.Chorus: We’re marching to Zion,Beautiful, beautiful Zion;We’re marching upward to Zion,The beautiful city of God.Let those refuse to singWho never knew our God;But children of the heavenly KingMay speak their joys abroad.Chorus: We’re marching to Zion,Beautiful, beautiful Zion;We’re marching upward to Zion,The beautiful city of God.The hill of Zion yieldsA thousand sacred sweetsBefore we reach the heav’nly fields,Or walk the golden streets.Chorus: We’re marching to Zion,Beautiful, beautiful Zion;We’re marching upward to Zion,The beautiful city of God.Then let our songs abound,And ev’ry tear be dry;We’re marching thru Emanuel’s groundTo fairer worlds on high.Chorus: We’re marching to Zion,Beautiful, beautiful Zion;We’re marching upward to Zion,The beautiful city of God.Isaac Watts, 1707LETTHOSEREFUSE TOSINGSt. Louis, Missouri, East St. Louis, Illinois,1916–1918IMags stepped back intothe street to see the building before her in its entirety, all five stories of it. Mags had never been inside a building that tall. She marveled that the fifth floor kept from crashing down into the first. The sight and wonder of it dropped her jaw and dried her mouth. Behind her, carriages, carts, horsemen, and motorcars raced by on urgent business, raising dust in great yellow clouds, and the dust entered her lungs through her open, dried-up mouth so that she staggered backward and set to in a coughing fit. Mags was a country gal, ignorant of city folk, their hustle and bustle, their common lack of caring about anything but their own affairs. Though not a single beating heart that passed gave two hoots she’d lost both her dignity and her respiration, she was deeply embarrassed to be seen doubled over trying to catch her breath at the side of the street, equines and vehicles swerving around her. Her lean cheeks burned hotter than if she were in a choir about to sing a new hymn without a songbook. Suddenly a strong arm went around her waist. A deep, silken voice murmured directly into her ear just loud enough for her to hear: Are you alright, darlin’? Let’s get you out of the street. Would you care to set down and have a little water or somethin’?Mags pulled away as hard as she could, startled out of her cough and into a ragged wheeze. She stood heaving, her bony back at a right angle to her knees, her head cocked to stare up with eyes wide as a bug’s at the man who would expedite her fate for the next number of years, and so saw him that first time sideways, an omen for what passed between them if a sign unrecognized can be called such. What she saw was everything folk back home told her to avoid like wildfire in St. Louis—a handsome man, dandified in silks and bright cottons, a gardenia his boutonniere, a gold tooth illuminating his wide, welcoming smile. His skin and hair were as shiny black as the ebony knob of his walking stick, and his eyes were a startling, sparkling green. She heard the voice of her cousin Aurora Mae warning her. Watch yourself, Mags, with those trussed-up city men. There’s ones specialize in hypnotizin’ little brown rabbits like you. Exchange but a word with one of those and all your hopes and dreams will be forever gone.Mags did nearly everything Aurora Mae told her to do. The woman was a goddess to her, despite the fact that Mags was five years older and should have been the senior cousin, dispensing advice and commands by birthright. Determined and intelligent, Mags had taught herself to read and write. Whatever humble letters Aurora Mae possessed, Mags had given her. Still, there was the matter of blood. Aurora Mae’s blood was near pure African on her granddaddy’s side. She was proper owner of all the land on which he’d invited the family to settle after Emancipation. Even if Aurora Mae hadn’t looked the way she did—impossibly tall and lean with skin as black as a moonless, starless night with firelit eyes and a full purple mouth, all of it surrounded by a mass of rich, thick hair that had never seen scissors—Mags would have followed her into the jaws of death. She was a queen among women and men, too, a queen who knew everything the ...

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