Go Tell It on the Mountain

by James Baldwin

“Ain’t no such thing,” said Sister McCandless, “as a little fault or a big fault. Satan get his foot in the door, he ain’t going to rest till he’s in the room. You is in the Word or you ain’t—ain’t no halfway with God.”

“Now you just remember,” Elder Peters said, as kindly as before, “you’s talking to your elders.” “Then it seem to me,” he said, astonished at his boldness, “that if I got to look to you for a example, you ought to be a example.”

“Deborah,” he asked, “what you been thinking all this time?” She smiled. “I been thinking,” she said, “how you better commence to tremble when the Lord, He gives you your heart’s desire.”

“I’m saved,” he said, “and I know I’m saved.” And then, as his father did not speak, he repeated his father’s text: “My witness is in Heaven and my record is on high.” “It come from your mouth,” said his father then. “I want to see you live it. It’s more than a notion.”

“That song they sing,” said John, finally, “if it costs my life—is that the price?” “Yes,” said Elisha, “that’s the price.” Then John was silent, wanting to put the question another way. And the silence was cracked, suddenly, by an ambulance siren, and a crying bell. And they both looked up as the ambulance raced past them on the avenue on which no creature moved, save for the saints of God behind them. “But that’s the Devil’s price, too,” said Elisha, as silence came again. “The Devil, he don’t ask for nothing less than your life. And he take it, too, and it’s lost forever. Forever, Johnny. You in darkness while you living and you in darkness when you dead. Ain’t nothing but the love of God can make the darkness light.”