New Bethel in 1956, when she was only fourteen years old.

Thirty-one years later, she returns a successful yet scarred woman, the veteran of an extraordinary but frustratingly uneven career as well as a turbulent personal life. Still, she remains undefeated in her faith. One Lord, One Faith, One Baptism is Aretha Franklin's second vinyl trip to the altar since she ascended to the throne as Queen of Soul, and like the first, 1972's aptly titled Amazing Grace, it is a striking musical documentary of uninhibited rapture and sobering confessional intensity – the sound of a woman at once reveling in the glory of her God-given talent and reflecting on a history of pain and uncertainty that earthly success couldn't salve. Ostensibly a record of celebration, One Lord, One Faith, One Baptism is weighed down by some very heavy crosses.

You can feel every one of them bearing down in her breathtaking reading of "The Lord's Prayer." The opening lines are like a song in themselves, a mini-aria in which Franklin pauses for extended melodic meditations, savoring those moments with slowly arcing wails and a breathy tremolo. She forsakes the fireworks for a heartier, more sage quality in her singing, sounding less like a radiant R&B angel than like a weary supplicant, thankful for all the good she's got and grateful for surviving the bad. Then, as the band and choir swell up behind her, she erupts into a soaring crescendo before suddenly dropping into a low, smoky alto for the amen. It is the album's most stirring moment and one of Aretha's best recorded performances in recent years. It is also a true prayer, with all of the hope it promises and the humbleness it requires.

Franklin, who produced One Lord, One Faith, One Baptism, is almost too humble for her own good. "The Lord's Prayer" is one of only three solo vocal numbers on the album (the other two are the stately opening march, "Walk in the Light," and a beautiful voice-and-piano rendition of "Ave Maria"). But she has chosen her singing partners well, matching her own seasoned strengths with rafter raisers like Mavis Staples, Joe Ligon of the Mighty Clouds of Joy and the formidable Franklin Sisters trio, Erma, Carolyn and Brenda. Ligon, one of the legendary male voices in gospel music, digs into the slow hymn "I've Been in the Storm Too Long" with ravenous delight, whipping himself into an Otis Redding frenzy th