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The service offered still-grieving Charleston -- in another era, the American capital of the transatlantic slave trade -- a chance to mark what many argued was its triumph in thwarting the shooter's reported aim to foment racial hatred.
Celebrants at Emanuel church said the accused gunman, Dylann Roof, 21, from a rural town near the state capital Columbia, had failed miserably in his quest to break their spirit of love and faith.
"There they were in the house of the Lord, studying your word, praying with one another," said visiting minister John Gillison from the pulpit.
"But the Devil also entered. And the Devil was trying to take charge," he said.
"Thanks be to God, hallelujah, that the Devil cannot take control of your people. And the Devil cannot take control of your church."
- 'Unity bridge' -
The crowd spilled out into the street, where loudspeakers relayed songs and sermons from the two-hour service live to hundreds of worshipers braving brutal summer heat.
Later in the day, more than 10,000 people spread out across the 2.5-mile (four-kilometer) Arthur Ravenel Bridge to hold hands in a stunning show of solidarity with the Emanuel church.
"It's not black lives that matter any more. All lives matter," said Black Lives Matter leader Jay Johnson to loud cheers as he joined the overwhelmingly white and cheerful crowd.
Once on the bridge and holding hands in a "unity chain" from Charleston to the middle-class suburb of Mount Pleasant, participants observed nine minutes of silence, one for each of the Emanuel massacre victims.
The attack on Emanuel, one of the most renowned African American houses of worship in the United States, was the bloodiest on a black church since the civil rights era.
The victims, aged 26 through 87, notably included Emanuel's chief pastor Clementa Pinckney, 41, also a respected South Carolina state senator who campaigned for tighter gun laws.
A website apparently created by Roof features a 2,500-word racist screed against African Americans, in which he appears in photos holding guns and the Confederate flag, and burning the Stars and Stripes.
Roof went on the run after the shooting and was caught a day later in neighboring North Carolina. He is held in solitary confinement and charged with nine counts of murder.
- Joy and sorrow -
At the church, the service was at times somber, at times jubilant, as the mostly black worshipers, flanked by scores of white visitors showing their solidarity, raised their voices in song, clapping and swaying in rhythm.
Some cried, others held hands. Many waved fans in hopes of keeping the stifling heat at bay.
Sitting among them was South Carolina Governor Nikki Haley, a Republican who is resisting calls to remove the Confederate flag from the lawn of the state legislature.
Some see the Civil War-era saltire as a symbol of Southern pride and heritage, but others argue it harks back to days of white supremacy and is now fit only for a museum.
Later, worshipers said the service gave them much-needed solace.
"It was joyous. You just felt God's spirit there," said Tanosha Bosier, 40, a teacher's assistant in Charleston who attended Emanuel as a child and brought along her 14-year-old son Ashton and daughters Autumn, 10, and Avery, 8.
Ryan Shepard, 28, who traveled hours from Atlanta, Georgia to be there, said he left the service with a strong sense of the church's resolve.
"The history of this church suggests that nothing is going to stop them from moving forward," said Shepard, a community activist and advisor to Atlanta Mayor Kasim Reed.
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Celebrants at Emanuel church said the accused gunman, Dylann Roof, 21, from a rural town near the state capital Columbia, had failed miserably in his quest to break their spirit of love and faith.
"There they were in the house of the Lord, studying your word, praying with one another," said visiting minister John Gillison from the pulpit.
"But the Devil also entered. And the Devil was trying to take charge," he said.
"Thanks be to God, hallelujah, that the Devil cannot take control of your people. And the Devil cannot take control of your church."
- 'Unity bridge' -
The crowd spilled out into the street, where loudspeakers relayed songs and sermons from the two-hour service live to hundreds of worshipers braving brutal summer heat.
Later in the day, more than 10,000 people spread out across the 2.5-mile (four-kilometer) Arthur Ravenel Bridge to hold hands in a stunning show of solidarity with the Emanuel church.
"It's not black lives that matter any more. All lives matter," said Black Lives Matter leader Jay Johnson to loud cheers as he joined the overwhelmingly white and cheerful crowd.
Once on the bridge and holding hands in a "unity chain" from Charleston to the middle-class suburb of Mount Pleasant, participants observed nine minutes of silence, one for each of the Emanuel massacre victims.
The attack on Emanuel, one of the most renowned African American houses of worship in the United States, was the bloodiest on a black church since the civil rights era.
The victims, aged 26 through 87, notably included Emanuel's chief pastor Clementa Pinckney, 41, also a respected South Carolina state senator who campaigned for tighter gun laws.
A website apparently created by Roof features a 2,500-word racist screed against African Americans, in which he appears in photos holding guns and the Confederate flag, and burning the Stars and Stripes.
Roof went on the run after the shooting and was caught a day later in neighboring North Carolina. He is held in solitary confinement and charged with nine counts of murder.
- Joy and sorrow -
At the church, the service was at times somber, at times jubilant, as the mostly black worshipers, flanked by scores of white visitors showing their solidarity, raised their voices in song, clapping and swaying in rhythm.
Some cried, others held hands. Many waved fans in hopes of keeping the stifling heat at bay.
Sitting among them was South Carolina Governor Nikki Haley, a Republican who is resisting calls to remove the Confederate flag from the lawn of the state legislature.
Some see the Civil War-era saltire as a symbol of Southern pride and heritage, but others argue it harks back to days of white supremacy and is now fit only for a museum.
Later, worshipers said the service gave them much-needed solace.
"It was joyous. You just felt God's spirit there," said Tanosha Bosier, 40, a teacher's assistant in Charleston who attended Emanuel as a child and brought along her 14-year-old son Ashton and daughters Autumn, 10, and Avery, 8.
Ryan Shepard, 28, who traveled hours from Atlanta, Georgia to be there, said he left the service with a strong sense of the church's resolve.
"The history of this church suggests that nothing is going to stop them from moving forward," said Shepard, a community activist and advisor to Atlanta Mayor Kasim Reed.
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