Recently, I visited with my family in Mississippi before we caravan'd to Petit Jean Mountain near Little Rock, Arkansas. I was sound asleep one morning when I was pleasantly awakened by the angelic voice of my sister, Weesie. She was singing this song ... I hear thy welcome voice That calls me, Lord, to thee For cleansing in thy precious blood That flowed on Calvary. I am coming, Lord Coming now to thee; Wash me, cleanse me in the blood That flowed on Calvary. That song lingers with me, still. My sister asked me to take the devotion time at our family reunion on Saturday night before we all left to go our separate ways on Sunday morning. I used that song as a basis. It was quite appropriate, because in ages past—and we were all familiar with this exercise as performed by our Mama Smith and our Mother, Clytie, on separate agendas, of course— when we would visit, my grandmother used to wake us up in the middle of the night strumming fiercely on the old gui