O Freedom! The Musical Sage of Mary Pleasant

Freedom is hard Freedom is beautiful Freedom is dangerous Freedom is everything Freedom, freedom Freedom, freedom is everything - Hello, I'm Raehann, Raehann Bryce-Davis.

I'm an opera singer and producer, and I've had the pleasure of singing opera in concerts all over the world.

I recorded this song for the debut album about my life called "Evolution" but I never thought that I'd be here in Oakland to introduce a civil rights icon.

Mary Pleasant's colorful life weathered many storms, and she was once the most talked-about woman in San Francisco.

While many other African Americans could hardly gain mention in the mainstream press, she commanded full-page articles and even a serialized version of her life.

She aided the abolitionist John Brown and raised a joint fortune once assessed at $30 million.

We all need to know her.

(gentle piano music) And now I have the pleasure of introducing "O Freedom!

", a musical saga on the life of Mary Ellen Pleasant.

And I invite you to go back in time with me as Mary Pleasant tells the story of how she became the Mother of Civil Rights in California.

(gentle piano music continues) (gentle piano music continues) (gentle piano music continues) (shoes gently clacking) (shoes gently clacking) (match strikes) (match strikes) (shoes gently clacking) (fan tapping) (Mary humming melodically) hmmm It was about... Freedom.

Hmm.

Well, they said you wanted to know about me.

Well, I guess I can tell you a few things.

I, uh, get up in the morning at about six o'clock.

I have a cup of coffee, nothing more.

And then, I read the newspapers.

(chuckles) But that's not what you wanna know about, is it?

(chuckles) Well... My name is Mary Pleasant and I come a long way.

All the way from seventeen-naught-four.

Uh... 1817 to 1904, you're calling it.

they called me a woman of mystery.

But I weren't a mystery.

I was an entrepreneur.

Of course, Mother of Civil Rights in California is what you're calling me now, and I'm right grateful, and I'm gonna tell you how I'd come about and all.

But first... Them newspapers.

The newspapers have said so many things about me, most of 'em wrong, that I just have to come back here and set the record straight, understand me.

For instance, I did give money to the strikers on the Sutter and Geary Street trolley lines, but not $600 as reported in the newspapers, hmph.

And then there's the matter of that name, Mammy Pleasant.

It gives me the suspiration.

"Mammy Pleasant," as in, uh, hmph... "Mammy Pleasant, the old colored woman, is slowly succumbing to the weight of her years."

Hmph, Mammy Pleasant.

Let's just get one thing straight, shall we?

I do not like to be called Mammy by everybody.

I'm not "Mammy" to everybody in California.

A minister, not too long ago, he wrote me a letter.

He addressed it to Mammy Pleasant.

I wrote right back on the envelope.

"My name is Mary E.

Pleasant."

Wasn't in my house 15 minutes, but then I sent it back to him, unopened, unread.

Didn't waste any of my paper on him.

Nah... Just between you and me, I don't care anything about it.

But they shan't do it.

They shan't nickname me at my age.

If he hadn't had better sense, he shoulda had better manners.

(Mary laughing) Don't pay me any mind.

(chuckles) I come a long way.

You know, most folks, they take life too seriously.

I take life as a joke and I get a lot of fun out of it.

I know which side my bread is buttered on.

And if it ain't buttered at all, it's just the same to me.

I come... I come a long way, and I always carry two things with me.

You know what they were?

My wits and my sense of humor, both of 'em good traveling companions.

humf... I remember.

I remember when I was a child of nine, taken out of nine years of slavery from an old city plantation in Georgia where I was born.

And then I was taken up to Cincinnati and, uh, New Orleans and then up to Nantucket Island where they bounded me out, um, to an old Quaker lady, Mrs.

Hussey.

You're calling it, um, indenture.

Understand me, means I worked a nd I got no wages.

Anyways, when I got there, I looked up at that old Quaker lady and she looked down at me and she said, um, "Dost thee want to stay here, child?"

And I said, uh, "No, ma'am, I don't."

And she said, "Art thee a very bad girl?"

And I said, "Oh, yes, ma'am, I am!"

And she said, "What dost thee do, child?"

And I said, "Oh, I lie, and I steal."

(gasps) She said, "What dost thee steal?"

And I said, um, "Sugar plums."

(laughing) Well, I laughed and she laughed, and we were friends ever since.

(chuckles) Oh, Nantucket.

I took the shackles off my mind in Nantucket.

They had the venerable Lucretia Mott, do you know her?

Well, before your time.

Anyways, she had told 'em that all men was created equal.

And they took it up and it become the cause, abolition and all is what I'm telling, like that.

And I took it up and it become my cause.

And you know my cause.

My cause.

My cause.

Well, my cause is the cause of freedom and equality for myself and for my people.

And I'd rather be a corpse than a coward.

Now, if I'm dead, all right then.

But as long as I'm a living, I'm gonna fight.

And I'm going to fight to win.

And I don't wanna be carried up to victory on flowery beds of ease either.

I like to go through bloody scenes.

So, them newspapers, they can say what they want about me.

When I'm in a fight, any byplay doesn't faze me.

(light folk drum music) O freedom O freedom O freedom Over me And before I'd be a slave And go home to my Lord And be free O freedom O freedom O freedom Over me And before I'd be a slave I'd be buried in my grave And go home to my Lord And be free Hmph, Don't pay me any mind.

(chuckling) I'd come... A long way.

And you know, I used my wits again when I met my first husband.

Now I'm gonna tell you how about it come, but first, uh, you have to use your imagination.

Now, come like this.

A little later, when I was older, my indenture was over.

They, uh, my Quaker people, they grew to love me, and they wanted me to work and get a trade, and so they set me up in an apprenticeship in Boston.

And there I went to Taylor Jackson's place on Prospect Street... Well, you don't know it, it's before your time.

Anyways, Taylor Jackson, I worked for him.

And I was a, uh, an apprentice.

And I learned dress making and, uh, vest making, and boot binding, and all whatnot like that.

Now, one day, I was coming out of the tailor shop where I worked, and I had on a dress, what I had made, something like this.

But it had a big, uh, leg of mutton sleeves on it.

Do you know it?

Before your time.

Anyways, I was sprightly and I was handsome, even if I do say it.

And I didn't have to wear any of that there, um, false ornamentation.

You're calling it, um... Jewelry, hmph.

I always felt that false ornamentation, jewelry, published a woman's vanity and a woman's weakness.

Now, I might've been vain as a girl, but I was never weak.

The story.

So I was getting into a public carriage, and I stuck my head in and I said, "Do you have room for me and my sleeves?"

(laughs) Well, they all laughed.

And the one who laughed the loudest was my future husband, James W. Smith, what I'm telling.

(chuckles) Now, James had took a liking to me right away.

And the next weekend, he, and his mother, come to hear me at the church cornerstone-laying ceremony.

I was a, I was a soloist, I sang.

A paid soloist, sang all my life.

I sang.

I sang, uh... I sang, uh... Oh, I sang "Jesus, Lover of My Soul."

Jesus, lover Of my soul Let me to Thy bosom Fly (chuckles) You know that one, it's my favorite.

Anyways, well, well, right after that, why, James was liking me so much that he wants to up and marry me.

Now, I thought that was kind of a rushed affair, mind you.

But I looked at it businesslike.

Now, James, he was a handsome mulatto, but he was passing his Cuban 'cause he was a spy for William Lloyd Garrison's "The Liberator."

That was the, um, abolitionist paper.

And James was a daring slave rescuer on the Underground Railroad.

You know it, don't you?

The Underground Railroad, I'm telling.

Well, you know it wasn't a train or trolley?

Yes, well, it was a trackless series of brave men and women and boys and girls, and they was 'resting slaves out of slavery that was taking them from Ohio up to New York, and later on to Canada, that was taking them from Virginia up to Nova Scotia, and from New Orleans to Texas, and on to Mexico, like that, by various tracks, I'm telling, various routes.

And that's how come they was calling it, I suppose, a railroad; tracks.

Anyways, like that.

Well, huh, James was a daring slave rescuer on the underground railroad.

And James was a rich merchant.

So I said yes.

'Course, um, hmph, everything was sort of like um, a put-up job after that.

You see, James told me to come to St.

Mary's in Boston where we was going to publish our wedding bands.

Um, you're calling it, uh... Engagement.

Well, and when I got there, there was this real wedding ceremony going on: mine.

That hit me hard.

And well, right after that, they're wanting me to go to James' house.

Now, nevermind that it was... It was the most beautiful house I'd ever seen.

But James wouldn't even let me keep the clothes, what I made for my true soul.

James wouldn't even let me alert my Quaker people.

All I felt... All I felt was that I'd somehow lost my freedom all over again.

(gentle music) Well... I- I grew to love James.

I mean, at least, I try.

But you see, with James, I lost my say.

And I always had to have my say.

Anyways, James died not too long after.

Oh, I know what you're thinking.

You're thinking like somebody said that I killed him, but nothing ever come of that.

And James, you know, he left me a rich woman.

He left me $45,000 in gold and a plantation near Harpers Ferry, Virginia.

(chuckles) Well, now, I sold the plantation, mind you, and I remarried not too long after.

But you know, James asked me to use that money in the cause of the colored race, and I kept that promise.

I kept that promise for myself.

I kept that promise because I knew the pain of losing my freedom.

And I wanted to end that pain for everybody forever.

(gentle music continues) No more sorrow No more sorrow No sorrow Over me (gentle music continues) I'm sorry.

The story.

JJ, the man I married next.

(sighs) The story, Mother of Civil Rights.

Well, the man I married next was named John James Plaisance.

He was a Creole, and they called him JJ Pleasants.

Pleasants, you see?

And then later we was dropping the S and it become Pleasant.

That's how it come, like that.

Well, now, you see that was it, Pleasants, that was my name.

That was my real father's name.

Now, my husband was no relation, mind you, but, but my real father was John H. Pleasants, son of a governor of Virginia.

Oh, I know.

I know what you're thinking.

You're thinking that I never met my real father.

Well, it's true.

I was the daughter of a slave girl.

But her name... Her name was Mary.

And she was the proud daughter and the proud granddaughter of Santo Domingo Voodoo Queens!

I'm sorry, I did it again.

I'm sorry, I jumped the track.

Now look, if I do it again, you just tell me and I promise to get back on it and stick.

Now, Mother of Civil Rights and all, I know, I know, the story, the story.

I'm gonna tell it.

The, JJ, my second husband.

(laughs) Sorry, excuse me.

(Mary giggling) I'm sorry.

(laughing) I'm sorry, but I'm laughing, I'm laughing (laughs) I'm laughing because that man could be right clownish.

(laughing) And you know, JJ, JJ loved my money.

JJ loved wine, women, and song and JJ loved me in that order.

(Mary laughing) So I guess you're wondering, well, why'd I marry him then?

(gentle piano music) Well, with that man, I had my say.

And with that man, I could laugh.

And with that man, I had a little loving for the very first time, and it felt free, and I was free and I felt No more sorrow No more sorrow No sorrow Over me And before I'd be a slave I'd be buried in my grave And go home to my Lord And be free The story.

Well, now I guess I better tell you a few things, Mother of Civil Rights and all, (chuckles) come like this.

Well, about in, uh, little before '50, after we was married, JJ and I, there was this thing called the, uh, Fugitive Slave Law, do you know it?

I'm gonna tell it.

Well, anyways, now in '20, they drawed a line across the land in the mines of men, 1820, before your time.

And below it, you can have slavery, they was calling 'em slavery states.

And above it, you can't, they was calling 'em anti-slavery.

But understand me now, doesn't mean that they were against slavery, no.

Means they didn't want us in the state, understand me.

Now in '50, come California, there was 15 anti-slavery states and 15 slavery.

And come in California wanting to come into the union anti-slavery, 'cause they was having a rush, a gold rush, I'm telling, like that.

And they didn't want anybody bringing the slaves into the state to work in the mine to unfair advantage.

Understand it was like that.

So now everybody was getting upset that is the slavery states, because they were gonna be upsetting the balance.

And so Senator Henry Clay, he come in and he making a compromise.

Now, the way I understand a compromise is that everybody agrees to something that nobody wants.

Not that.

So what I'm telling, as in the compromise was the Fugitive Slave Law.

And what it meant, well, for me and for others is, well, now for escaped slaves, they was turning up the heat.

But for slave rescuers, and I had become a slave rescuer while they was turning up the heat also.

So I had to hide out with my Quaker people.

And then JJ and I, we went down to his folk in New Orleans, like that.

(laughs) Soon as we got there, mm, that man took off for San Francisco gold rush country.

Said he had to scout us a new life.

I stayed behind.

I, um, stayed behind to, um... To learn a few things.

And I got in trouble again 'cause I started slave rescuing again, hmph.

Anyways, that's how I'd come to California.

God bless her, Ma'amselle Marie Laveau, the famous voodoo queen, she, she got my passage on a steamer to San Francisco.

Come round the horn in '52, that's how I'd come.

And a narrow, narrow escape it was too.

(gentle piano music) I remember.

I remember standing on the deck of that ship, looking back at the coast in New Orleans, my former home, and I felt a kind of deep sadness, a kind of chill in my soul and a chill in my bones because I knew it would be a long time before I got home again.

That's when Tom come along.

Thomas Bell, old Scotsman.

Thomas Frederick Bell, my future business partner.

Tom took his old Scot shawl and he put it round my shoulders and it took the chill outta my soul, outta my bones.

Dear Tom.

I miss him.

An exile From home Riches dazzle In vain Oh, give me My lowly Thatched cottage Again Thy soul From the skies Seems to Hallow us there Which seek Thro' the Earth Is ne'er met With elsewhere Home, home Sweet, sweet Home There's no Place like home There's no Place Like Home - Sadness for Mary Ellen Pleasant as she faces her memories and an uncertain future in Gold Rush California.

But I have so many questions.

So I thought maybe before we get started, I would invite our director and star, Susheel Bibbs, who has researched, played, and written about Mary Pleasant for the last 30 years, to join us.

Welcome, Susheel.

- Thank you, I'm happy to be here.

- Susheel, I have so many questions, but maybe we have time for a few of them.

Why aren't you in costume?

And why are we here in Oakland?

And why a musical about Mary Pleasant?

Why the old-time color?

And what makes her the Mother of Civil Rights in California?

(Susheel laughs) Just a few.

- Just a few.

(Raehann laughing) Well, I think I can answer a few.

First of all, we have to keep Mary and me separate.

- [Raehann] Mm.

- And so I, when I'm answering questions about Mary Pleasant, I usually wear my own clothes or a part of the costume.

And then Oakland, a lot of people don't know that she lived in Oakland, and it came like this.

She was in San Francisco, very much sought after, and people started coming, I know past her house, paparazzi and all, and she couldn't even open her shutters.

And so she decided to move into Oakland and set up an estate.

And of course, the newspapers found out.

- [Raehann] Hmm.

- And they published that she was the richest, most prestigious colored woman in Oakland and it all started again.

And they even jumped over her fence.

- [Raehann] Oh no.

- So back to San Francisco she went.

And then a musical.

Well, believe it or not, she was a paid soloist.

She was a singer in her twenties in Boston.

And so I thought, wow, this is great, I get to use my voice.

Let me, with my research and her words, let me tell the story of Mary Pleasant as a musical.

- [Raehann] Wow.

- And then of course, why the color?

I really wanted to take people back in time to 1850.

And I wanted the color to look different, but I didn't want it to be that pale black and white like a newsreel.

So that's why we have the color that we have.

And then Mother of Civil Rights, well, she was a Martin Luther King, a Malcolm X, and a Rosa Parks combined.

- [Raehann] Mm!

- And here's what I mean.

Martin Luther King because she could love across boundaries of race and class without losing sight of her goal, which was freedom and equality for herself and for her people.

And then Malcolm X because she felt that slavery had to be ended by any means possible.

- [Raehann] Hm.

- And she also included as one of the means, it was free enterprise.

And then her great court battle, a Rosa Parks.

She fought a trolley case court battle in 1868, and that case went to the California State Supreme Court.

And in 1982, it was used to get the first monies in pain and suffering in a case of civil rights.

So her case reached almost 100 years forward to our time and changed modern day civil rights.

- [Raehann] Wow.

- A Mother of Civil Rights.

- Absolutely.

Thank you so much, Susheel.

- [Susheel] My pleasure.

- I know you have to go and get your costume on.

But before you head off to your, uh, her 1852 arrival in San Francisco, I just wanna say thank you.

- Thank you, thank you, Raehann.

- Mm.

(light uplifting piano music) - San Francisco.

I had me a new home, I knew.

And a rough-and-tumble place it was too.

I worked for wealthy businessmen and I put my money out to work for me.

It was my habit to draw out silver and to purchase gold in South America, and to put in the silver and draw out the gold, and purchase the gold and put in the gold, and that way, my money multiplied rather rapidly.

I worked and my money worked.

I was a great believer in work.

You do your work, you get it finished, and you sit on the lawn afterwards.

(light uplifting piano music continues) I finished my work today And I say I'm on my way I finished my work today And I say I'm on my way I finished my work today And I say I'm on my way I finished my work today And I say I'm on my way On my way Oh, away On my way Oh, away I finished my work today And I say I'm on my way (light uplifting piano music continues) (light uplifting piano music continues) (light uplifting piano music continues) (Mary laughing and clapping) San Francisco.

Oh, (laughs) it was a rough-and-tumble place, mm.

You know, everybody's asking Mary, "Mary, what was San Francisco like during the Rush?"

Well, I'm gonna tell it.

(chuckles) Come like this.

Well, we had, um, 40, 50,000 people, according to who was counting, and we had, uh, 400, 700 saloons, according who was counting.

We had, uh, well, we had six men to every woman.

And we weren't uncivilized, mind you, we had 20 coffee houses.

Now, we had five murders every six days 'cause the locals, they was consuming five million gallons of liquor a year.

(chuckles) Whew.

Anyways, we were known for three things.

You know what they were?

We were known for fleas, we were known for glass, and we were known for mud.

I'm gonna tell you how it come, like this.

Now, you know that it rains in San Francisco, right?

Yes, in the winter.

When now come the rains, come the mud.

Then, well, folks was coming out of saloons and they were shooting each other up and there was falling in the mud and not being hurt until the spring, unseemly.

And so we thought, well, now, this is terrible.

We're gonna have to bring in the horses to pull the men out of the mud.

Well, like that, we brung them in, the poor things, they got stuck.

And they started starving to death, and well, out come the fleas.

And they're going into the mud like that, fleas and mud.

Now, we thought, well, we don't want to, to suffer a similar fate, mind you.

So we had plenty bottles from all the drinking and all.

So we're putting down the bottles and making pathways and that's how it come fleas, glass, and mud.

(chuckling) It was a rough-and-tumble place.

But you know, I was up to the task.

Now I know you heard that I was passing as a white woman, but understand me, they called me Mrs.

Ellen Smith.

But you see, I'd come in April, 1852 and the Fugitive Slave Law followed me there in April, 1852.

And they was 'resting folks off the streets and back into slavery, and I thought, well I didn't wanna suffer that fate, so I was best to be a spy.

But secretly, as Mrs.

Pleasants, I was up in the fields rescuing escaped slaves.

And I was down in the docks with writs, and I was in the courts fighting for the right of testimony.

And you know it, don't you, right of testimony?

Well, you know that if we can't testify in court, and we couldn't, that means that somebody can come up and they can jump your claim and hit your own head and you can't say a thing about it, so we fought it!

I was fighting to keep slavery outta California and ex-slaves in it.

And I even put some of 'em up in their own businesses, and I put the rest of 'em up in my own.

I had tenant farms and dairy farms, and laundries, and land.

You know, the land is your life.

I mean to say that, well, I mean to say that I prospered.

I prospered.

I prospered.

But not so for my people.

In '53, and I know you know it.

In '53 come the European immigration.

Now understand me, I hold nothing against 'em, they were starving over there.

They has to come over here to eat something.

But they were taking all the little jobs that we got for the colored.

And then in '57, and I know you heard it, they told old Dred Scott, poor Dred, who had worked for his freedom in that Missouri Supreme Court, they told him.

Now, I guess I shoulda knowed that anybody by the name of Dred, nothing good woulda happened to him.

But anyways, they told old Dred Scott in that Missouri Supreme Court that a Black man has no rights that a white man ought respect.

And then in '58 come the Great Depression and the man on the bottom is feeling it the worst.

And they're deciding that they're gonna have an anti-immigration law in California, and guess who's gonna be the immigrants: we!

And that's when I decided.

That's when I decided to go back home.

Not to stay, but to help old John Brown end slavery once and for all forever.

(dramatic folk drum music) ("The Battle Hymn of the Republic" on piano) What's she doing?

Well, John Brown's plan was to capture the federal arsenal at Harpers Ferry on the confluence of the Shenandoah and the Potomac Rivers.

And he was gonna do it with only 21 men, fool-hearted.

My job was to ride down the Roanoke River in southern Virginia and tell the slaves that John was coming so's they'd help him.

Well, now I was dressed something like this, like a jockey.

Well, everything was going all right, and then John acted too soon and he was worsted at Harpers Ferry.

Means, means, means?

Means he was captured and hung!

And I was forced to flee for my life.

Hmph.

You see, they found a letter on John Brown with my initials on it, MEP.

But luckily, the newspapers published it as WEP, and my bad writing saved me.

Well... When I got back home, I found a letter from John Brown and you can bet I burned it.

Now understand me, John was a good man, but John here wrote too much and John said too much.

And there's nothing that folk lived to regret more as what they write and set their names to.

Anyways, I never, I never regretted what I'd done for John Brown or for the cause of liberty for my race.

And in 1863, (light uplifting piano) when they signed that Emancipation Proclamation, in 1863, when they forced Mr.

Lincoln to sign it, I declared myself a colored woman.

I'd come out in the open for civil rights, Mary E. Pleasant!

In the Civil War, we threw the secessionist press in the streets and we through the secessionist minister outta town.

(Mary chuckles) And then come our proudest hour.

All across the land, we were fighting for the right to, to ride the trolleys.

You see, we were riding 'em, but they was putting us off in 1866.

And in 1868, we won cases in and outta court.

I won in both, and in 1866 and in 1868, we could ride the trolleys in San Francisco.

Well, that's how I'd come.

That's how I'd come.

Mother of Civil Rights and all, I'm telling, that's how I'd come.

And you'll have to decide whether you think I owned it up, is all.

After that, um, I turned my attention to free enterprise.

In '77, you know, JJ passed on and then Tom and I, well, we made a killing in quicksilver, you're calling it Mercury, and milling, and mining, and railroads, and all whatnot, to the tune of $30 million.

We made $30 million.

I built a, a great mansion.

And, uh... Well, Tom moved into it with me and I put this woman, uh, named Teresa, up as his so-called wife for society.

So's Tom being with me would not ruin his reputation in society.

I know, I know.

But understand me, I thought that nothing could touch us.

I thought we'd soon be on equality with the best of 'em.

I even fought a great court battle against the great Senator William Sharon.

I backed the plaintiff against the great Senator William Sharon.

I thought nothing could touch us.

But, uh... Thi- things... Things just didn't turn out like I planned, is all.

In '92... Tom died.

And then old Senator Sharon's boys and old Teresa Bell, they- They paid them newspapers to malign and to vilify me and to blacken my character.

And I did not reply to their assaults because I had staunch supporters in the city.

And I felt that as long as they supported me, I did not care one snap of one little finger for public opinion!

But, uh... But, um... But, uh... But I was wrong.

And old Senator Sharon's boys and old Teresa Bell sure did scandalize my name.

(dramatic folk drum music) Well, I met Teresa the other day I give her my right hand And just as soon as my back was turned She went and scandalized my name Well, do you call that a sister No, no Do you call that a sister No, no Do you call that a sister No, no-oh-oh (folk drum music) She went and scandalized my name Well, let me tell you.

They called me a blackmailer.

They called me a baby stealer.

And some of them even said that I killed my partner, Tom.

Now, that is all that I will ever say about that.

They even call... You put this down, please.

You please put this down.

(laughing) They even called me a madam!

(laughing) $30 million, a madam (laughing) Now look, I mighta owned a few bordellos on the side, mind you, but I, I was a capitalist by trade!

(dramatic folk drum music) Well I met old Sharon the other day I give him my right hand And just as soon as my back was turned He went and scandalized my name Well, do you call that a brother No, no Do you call that a brother No, no Do you call that a brother No, oh-oh, no-oh-oh (folk drum music) He went and scandalized my name He scandalized my name He went and scandalized my name He scandalized my name!

(dramatic folk drum music) (light percussive folk music) (light percussive folk music continues) (light percussive folk music softening) (gentle piano music) I, uh, just come back to say that I want no vindication.

I do not hold a vindictive thought against anybody.

I have always desired to be at peace with God.

And I desire to be at peace with man.

So before I died, before I died, I forgave 'em all.

And now to you who stood by me through all this evil report and good, I just wanna say thank you.

And please hold me in your hearts, not as Mammy but as Mary E. Pleasant.

And this my favorite song.

Jesus, lover Of my soul Let me to Thy bosom fly While the nearer Waters roll While the tempest Still is high (gentle piano music continues) Jesus, lover Of my soul Let me to Thy bosom fly (heels softly clacking) (light upbeat music) (audience applauding) (light upbeat music continues) (audience cheering) (light upbeat music continues) (audience applause continues) (light upbeat music continues) (audience applause continues)