We aim to please.

In the bowels -- apologies to Yorkshire Pudding -- of the Feedjit Live Traffic thingie over in the sidebar, I noticed that a reader in Houston who had done a search on black women who singing one day at a time sweet jesus had landed on a post of mine entitled “One Day at a Time, Sweet Jesus” which includes a photograph of a field of bluebonnets somewhere in East Texas followed by the “Take no thought for the morrow” passage of scripture from the sixth chapter of the Gospel According to St. Matthew. It contains absolutely nothing, however, about the song mentioned in the post’s title (except for the obvious connection readers were supposed to make from the “Take no thought for the morrow” passage of scripture from the sixth chapter of the Gospel According to St. Matthew).

A thousand pardons.

I want to remedy that at once. Houston Reader, here is -- not black women (plural), sorry -- but a black woman (singular) singing Christy Lane’s song, “One Day At A Time, Sweet Jesus” (5:33).

The church is Fellowship Missionary Baptist Church in Chicago, Illinois.

And here, Houston Reader, are black women (plural), black men, and a rather flamboyant an impassioned pianist, organist, and drummer performing “The Lord's Prayer” (5:00).

Although that particular musical style and level of intensity in worship may not be your cup of tea, it is what is referred to in the U.S. as “black gospel” music, a genre in which sincerity trumps technique.

But I do hope that Houston Reader is now happy, that Snow- brush out in Oregon has managed to recall a few fond memories from his early years in Mississippi, and that Yorkshire Pudding’s diarrhoea (his spelling, not mine) is now cured.

Writing this post brings to mind what an anonymous woman from Montgomery, Alabama, said at the end of the 381-day-long bus boycott in her city during the Civil Rights era: “My feet are tired, but my soul is rested.”