What holy joys are there,
What ra—dian—cy of glo—ry,
What light beyond compare.
“They stand, those halls of Zi—on,
All ju—bi—lant—”
Blue opened the kitchen door, and as he stepped from the dusky hallway to the sunlit room, a sudden mellow trill struck into the song.
This tuneful greeting quite caught away the boy’s remembrance of the little speech of presentation with which he had thought to amuse his brother, and Doodles, his eyes big with wonder and delight, stretched out both hands towards the unkempt singer.
“O—h! is he ours?” he cried.
Blue nodded.
“To keep forever?”