Year: 1861

never relaxing his grasp. Once half.
whine of enjoyment escaped him,--he fawn-
ed his fearful head upon her; once he
scored her check with his tongue; savage
caresses that hurt like wounds. How weary
she was! and yet how terribly awake !
How fuller and fuller of dismay grew the
knowledge that she was only prolongiug
her anguish and playing with death How
appalling the thought that with her voice
ceased her existence Yet she could not
sing forever; her throat was dry and hard ;
her very breath was pain; her mouth
was hotter than any desert-worn pilgrims ;
iii she could but drop upon her burning
tongue one atom of the ice that clittered
about her but both of her arms were
plnioned in the giants vice. She remem-
bered the winding-sheet, and for the first
time in her life shivered with fear. Was
1t hers! She asked herself as she sang.
what sins she had committed, what life she
had led, TO find her punishment so soon and





IN these pangs,-and then she sought ea-
gerly for some reason why her husband
was not up and abroad to find her. He
failed her,-her one sole hope in life; and
not beilg aware of it, her voice forsook the
songs OF suffering and sorrow for old Cow
enanting hymns,-hymns with which her
mother had lulled her, which the class-lead-
er pitched in the chimuey-corners.-
and sweet Methodist hymns, brimming with
melody and with all fantastic invoutions of
tune TO suit that ecstatic worship,-hymns
full Of beauty of holiness, steadlast, relying,
sanctlfied by the salvation they had lent to
those IN worse extremity than hers,-for
they had found themselves in the grasp of
hell, lille she was but in the Jaws of death.
Out of this strange music, peculiar to one
character Of faith, and than which there is
none more beautiful in its degree nor own
ing more potent sway of sound, her voice
scared into the glorified chants of churches
What TO her was death by cold or famine
or wild beasts? Though He slay me, yet
will | trust in Him." she sang. High and
clear through the fore fair night the level
moonbeams splintering in the wood, the
scarce glints Of stars in the shadowy roof of
branches, these sacred anthems rose,-rose
as hope frcm despair, as some snowy
spray Of Aower-bells from blackest mould.
Was she not in Gods hands? Did not the
world swing at His will 2 If this were in
His great plan of providence, was it not
best, and should she not accept it?


i" He is the Lord our God; His iudg-
ments are in all the earth"


Oh, sublime faith of our fathers, where
utter selfsacrifce alone was true love, the
fragrance of whose unrequited subjection
was pleasant as that of golden censers
swung in parplevapored chancels


Never ceasing in the rythm of her
! thoughts, articulated in music as they
thronged, the memory of her first commun-
ion flashed over her. Again she was in that
distant place on that sweet spring morning.
Again the congregation rustled our, and the
few remained, and she trembled to find her
self among them. How well she remem-
bered the devout, quiet faces, too accus-
toned to the sacred feast TO glow with their
inner joy how well the snowy linen at
the altar, the silver vessels slowly and ST.
lently shifting and as the cup approached
and passed, how the sense of delicious per-
fume stole in and heightened the transport
of her prayer, and she had seemed looking
up through the windows where the sky
scared blue in constant freshness, to feel
all heavens balms dripping from the por-
tails, and to scent the lilies of eternal peace
Perhaps another would not have felt so
much ecstacy as satisfaction on that occa-
sion but it is a true, if later disciple
who has said, +" The Lord bestoweth his
4 blessings there, where he fndeth the YES
sels empty."-' And does it need the walls
] VI Il CHuECh 10 TGucN my COMMUNION


she asked. Does not every moment stand
a temple four-square to God ? And in that
morning, with its buoyant sunlight, was
any dearer to the Heart of the World than
now ?" My beloved is mine, and l am
his" she sang over and over again, with all
varied infection and profuse tune. How
gently all the winter-wrapt things bent to-
ward her them into what relation with her
had they grown how this common de-
pendence was the spell of their intimacy !
how at one with Nature had she become !
how all the night and the silence and the
forest seemed TO hold its breath, and to serd
its soul up to God in her singing twas
no longer dependency, that singing. 1t
was neither prayer nor petition. She had
left imploring, " How long wilt thou forget
me, o Lord ?" "Lighten mine eyes, lest
l sleep the sleep of deathl" " For in
death there is no remembrance of thee " !;
with countless other snoh fragments Of
supplication. She cried rather, Yea,
though walk through the valley Of the