COULDN’T HEAR NOBODY PRAY

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Way down yonder by myself, I couldn’t hear nobody pray. From the time that the first Negro landed in America to the Great World War is two hundred years or more. Now again the colored man goes back to the jungles of the equator this time to fight for his country. The old spiritual that expresses the fundamental and inevitable loneliness of man – here has a new meaning – yet keeps its eternal truth and power. The soldier in the South Pacific is trying to contact his outfit, all around him are the noises and confusion of battle – overhead the forces of evil are coming down to battle with him from the skies. Here all alone deserted he listens desperately, and “he couldn’t hear nobody pray.” Because if all people were really praying, for the fine things he expects of prayer – there would be no forces of evil descending and there would be no wars any more.