Put Your Hand /joy, Peace And Happiness/what A Mighty God -

The morning sun spilled across the wooden pews of the Mount Zion Chapel, but the real warmth was coming from the choir loft. Sister Beatrice, a woman whose smile could light up a blackout, adjusted her spectacles and nodded to the pianist.

The energy in the room reached a fever pitch. The drummer gave a sharp rimshot, and the atmosphere transformed from a celebration into an anthem of awe. the voices roared. Put Your Hand /Joy, Peace and Happiness/What a Mighty God

She began to clap—a slow, steady beat that pulled everyone upright. she belted out. The congregation joined in, their palms meeting in a thunderous, rhythmic unity. As the lyrics filled the room, the heavy burdens of the work week seemed to slide off shoulders. There was a collective realization that they weren't walking alone; they were being led by a steady, ancient grip. The morning sun spilled across the wooden pews