"I’ve got in my soul," the youth choir sang, their voices bright and energetic. In the third row, Mr. Henderson—a man known for his stern face—found his toes tapping. Then his knees started bouncing. By the second chorus, he was beaming. This wasn't a quiet, reserved peace; it was the kind of happiness that bubbled over, making the air in the chapel feel thick with a sense of "all is well."
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. Put Your Hand /Joy, Peace and Happiness/What a Mighty God
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. "I’ve got in my soul," the youth choir